


Frat Party in Liberty Springs

by wanderingaddict



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (but really they're verse), Anal, Anonymous Sex, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Drug Use, Group Sex, James Griffon/Keith (minor), M/M, Oral, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, SHEITH - Freeform, frat party
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-02 18:02:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15801768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingaddict/pseuds/wanderingaddict
Summary: College AU where the Garrison was investigated and had to undergo numerous reforms by the time the Voltron crew got there. It's now a much healthier place to be. Keith is a nearly 19 y/o freshman, Shiro is a 23 y/o graduate student who both got selected to go to space next year and dumped by his long-term boyfriend on the same day, and now is happily living the best gay life he can. Keith is about to find out just how gay that actually is.





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> Mild AU, the Garrison has been reformed into a more appropriate place for training astro-scientists. Shiro and Keith are only 5 years apart in age, naturally. Adam and Shiro had a perfectly fine relationship, but weren't compatible at this time. No ship bashing. Shiro gets to be as gay as he wants without censorship.

The Garrison - Earth’s top space-research program, part military base, part science facility, part academy - had come under a lot of scrutiny in the past few years regarding the ages of students it was recruiting, along with its ties to the military-industrial complex. A lot of changes had been made to the program as a result of the uproar when it was discovered that they had been recruiting _sixteen year-olds_ to fly fighter planes. The acceptance age was raised to eighteen, and if recruits were eligible for the space-exploration programs, it was required that they attend college courses, alongside their pilot and space-training programs. 

Students had resisted, at first. Keith had himself, certainly; the chance to go into space - even if it was limited to piloting cargo shuttles to the Lunar Base, Mars if he was extremely lucky - seemed like it had only been pushed further back by the new requirements. 

Now that he’d actually gotten his diploma, was nearly nineteen and had a chance to look back on the decisions he’d made three years ago, as a sixteen year-old? He was just glad he’d been able to work some of his shit out on Earth, where he couldn’t accidentally storm out of an airlock. 

Or be thrown out of one, for that matter, he thought to himself, before chuckling darkly. It was probably a good thing that they stopped sending teenagers without degrees or even a high school diploma into space. 

The stoplight he’d paused at turned green. It was a bit of a hike from the new intermural athletic center; he was glad he’d thought to take his bike to track practice today because a walk home after would have been hell. Boosting his lift-speed, he sped along the road at the north edge of the college down, to the fancy new building where most of the graduate students were now housed. That had been another issue the Garrison had come under fire for as well - a lot of interpersonal conflicts had sprung up as a result of keeping people with advanced degrees in the student "housing", which was little better than a military barracks.

But it was a Friday; the weekend loomed, and he was pretty sure that Shiro would be up for something exciting. Ever since the break-up with Adam, he’d had a lot more free time in the evenings, and didn’t seem to mind spending it with a brand new college freshman. 

Keith pulled up next to a black hoverbike - one of the few besides his own on campus - and took off his helmet. The evening air was crisp, refreshing after how hot the day had been. The black-haired young man glanced about, his eyes seeming to appear violet as the sun dipped low in the sky. 

A lot of people were out and about. He vaguely recalled that there was some sort of football match or something else with the nearby Liberty Springs school that had people excited. Probably a lot of parties going on tonight. He filed that thought away for later, and went inside. 

The front door read his key right away, but the elevator was refusing to work once again. For all their high-tech everything everywhere else... 

Keith winced, his legs wobbling as he struggled up the stairs. Originally, he’d thought that Iverson strong-arming him into the javelin, polevaulting, and long-distance teams had been a sign of the man’s belief in his ability. Now he half-suspected the man was just a sadist. He’d been forced to do drills for every event he competed in, and Iverson knew damn well that Keith was never one to back down from a challenge. 

Plus it helped to take the… edge… off of things. Otherwise he’d be alone with himself. And thoughts about Shiro.

He reached the third floor, powering through the soreness in each step. A turn of his key led him through to Shiro’s little, one-room apartment - not quite as nice as the space he’d had when living with Adam, but the window was a much better view. Plus Keith didn’t have to listen to them politely, firmly ‘disagree’ in a manner anyone sane would have recognized as a fight. 

“Shiro!” he called. 

That sharp, fresh-showered smell filled his nose. Keith’s eyes narrowed. Most days, Shiro only showered after his workouts in the morning. He sniffed again, more carefully - parsing bodywash, aftershave, and… a very light splash of cologne. Someone had plans tonight. A hint of anticipation bloomed, before he brutally stomped it down.

“Hey Keith!” Shiro called, popping out from the alcove that held the apartment’s tiny kitchenette. Shirtless, wearing only dark jeans, with a bit of underwear peeking out. “Finally free from Iverson?”

“I don’t know how you did it!” Keith exclaimed, moving past him to collapse on the sofa opposite Shiro’s bed. “The drills are non-stop. My legs feel like noodles.” He waggled his feet to show how loose they were. 

Shiro chuckled sympathetically as he strode over. “Yeah, he’ll put you through the ringer. What were you guys doing today? Burpies?” 

“Endless burpies, for the last three hours, I think,” Keith whined. “It seems like I should be working on timing, accuracy, not endurance!”

“Ah, it’s just to weed out the complainers,” the graduate student - and former track star himself - assured him. “In a couple weeks you’ll be studying form until your eyes bleed, and you’ll wish you could just do burpies.” Then Shiro frowned. “Well, you’ll still be doing burpies too. So really, you’ll just get both.”

He laughed at Keith’s frustrated groan, bending to search, distracted, through the laundry basket of neatly-folded shirts beside the couch. “Don’t worry Keith, Iverson’s drills will make your life as perfectly miserable as they made mine.” His divided attention was abundantly clear. 

Keith lips made a little moue, briefly, before Shiro’s proximity, the smell of him permeating the air, caused a mischievous glint to spark in his eye. “The gains are worth though, right?” he teased, pinching the underside of one pec. 

“Hey!” Shiro squawked, covering himself protectively. “I worked hard for these bad boys, don’t mistreat them!”

Mouth crooked in a smirk, Keith had a ready response. “I think they’re big enough to handle a little teasing.”

“Woah, Keith,” Shiro drawled, eyes glinting. “Is that what you’re into?” The younger man’s flush, followed by an immediate sulk, had Shiro laughing and ruffling him again. “Lighten up! I know it takes more than a good pair of pecs to catch your eye.” 

Biting back a response that would have probably revealed _far_ too much, Keith watched him dig out a black tee that was way too small - not that that mattered when it was on a guy like Shiro. “If only we could say the same for you.”

“Oh!” Shiro turned at the quip. “Keith with the zinger! Here I am, just coming out to have a good time. Why you gotta snatch my weave like this?”

“‘Cause I knew that carpet wasn't natural when it didn't match the drapes ” he replied, tauntingly, before ducking his head safely out of swatting range at the look on Shiro’s face when he turned around.

“My best friend,” the older man began, his mouth hanging open. “My own best friend, in my own home, coming right out after me!”

“Look, I’m not always laughter and sweetness!” Keith protested, giggling too hard to catch his breath. Unable to maintain his air of wounded offence, Shiro broke and started laughing too.

“What’s with you tonight?” Shiro tugged his shirt down, and squatted to put away the stuff he’d thrown aside. Keith’s gaze was caught by how well the dark jeans framed his butt. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” he managed, giddy from laughter and… well.

“You’re… feisty.” Shiro grinned over his shoulder at him. “It suits you.”

Keith moved to hide the flush creeping up his neck. Well. It probably helped that he’d come hoping Shiro would be getting ready to go out. That he’d gotten here in time to see him get ready was like putting out the appetizer before the meal. “Probably just… feeling the weekend,” he finished lamely, more than aware of the current sparking in his veins. He feigned looking out the window, though his eyes slid back to the tall, muscled Japanese man in too-tight clothes. 

“Some new episodes of Moons of Jupiter came out. Team’s investigating the colony on Ganymede. We watching them?” he asked, though he already knew the answer was no.

Sure enough, Shiro gave him a wry smile, shaking his head. “I think we’ll have to catch up on the Moons later.” He stood, moving to the narrow dresser half-stuffed in the closet. “ _I_ am going to a party tonight.” 

“On campus?” Keith inquired, knowing this answer too. 

“No, over in Liberty Springs.” Shiro replied, momentarily distracted by his phone. His lips curled slightly at whatever he read, before he shot back a quick reply. 

“Oh yeah?” the younger man asked, struggling to keep his tone neutral. “Are you meeting someone?”

“Nnoo...” Shiro began, caught off-guard, before sending a sharp look towards Keith. “Does it seem like I am?”

Used to getting in his own way, the dark-haired track star tried to make his response blithe. He shrugged. “You showered again. You’re wearing cologne.” _And you’re still in a jock,_ Keith noted, his gaze carefully not going down to the distinctive, elastic band peeking out from bigger guy’s jeans. 

Shiro gave him a patronizing look. “People get dressed up when they go out, Keith.” He rose, moving to the mirror on the closet door, and began messing with his hair. “Not everyone is into the ‘sunburned and sweaty’ look.” 

“When have you ever been ‘sunburned and sweaty’?” Keith asked, knees folded under himself as he leaned over the couch. “Because I’m pretty sure half the track team still hates how you can roll through a mud puddle and come out looking like a model while the rest of us keel over.”

“Hah, that... almost sounded like a compliment.” Finished with that floof of hair in front, Shiro walked over to the couch and flicked the middle of the freshman’s forehead. “Keep it up with that and soon you’ll have someone eating out of the palm of your hand.” 

Frowning, Keith watched him take a seat against the front of the sofa. “Sounds messy.” 

“That’s what relationships are, Keith. Messy.” He said it as if Keith hadn’t already learned that long ago. The younger man studied his friend for a moment, hesitant.

“Is it… still messy with Adam?”

Shiro glanced up at the black-haired boy, surprised. His gaze turned inward for a second, before he quirked one side of his mouth upwards. “No,” he replied simply. 

Something must have shown on Keith’s face, because the Japanese guy scoffed. “I’m serious!” he insisted, hauling himself onto the couch by the elbow. “Thanks for being there, these last couple months, by the way.” He hooked the younger man into a sideways hug. “I know you try to hide how much you’ve been checking up on me, because you _love me_ ,” he teased, squeezing way harder than necessary, “But I feel good. Getting out and partying has been... It’s scratching an itch I’d forgotten I had.” Turning contemplative, he let Keith recline across his lap, his thoughts obviously elsewhere. A minute passed before he spoke again. “Twenty-three is too young to get married, Keith. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

He wasn’t about to, not after how quickly things had soured with Adam. While he had no opinion on the man, other than that Shiro liked him - though Shiro liked most people - he’d seemed likeable enough. Distant, though Keith actually preferred not having people try to know him. It had sure seemed like Shiro was happy with him though. Right up until Adam put his foot down about Shiro joining Commander Holt’s research team, going up into space next year. 

If it had been him, well, he probably would have let Shiro do whatever Shiro wanted. Talking the man into doing something he didn’t want to do was a futile endeavor, usually doomed from the moment Shiro squared his shoulders and set his jaw. He’d seen Adam fight that battle - and lose - far too many times to try it himself. Hadn’t stopped Adam from trying though. Hadn’t stopped Shiro from furiously resisting. Hadn’t stopped the two of them from nearly imploding, at the end.

Calling off the engagement was probably the best thing Adam could have done, for both of them. Marriage with Shiro, Keith suspected, would not be like the easy-demeanor he put out to the world. It would mostly be butting up against that mix of iron will and resolute self-determination. A nicer way of putting what his father would have called bull-headedness 

When lit by the fading light from outside, however, there was an almost ephemeral quality to the look on Shiro’s face. It made him seem soft, made Keith want to protect him. At a time like this, he completely understood the drive to shelter the man in his arms, even if it was so at odds with the knowledge that Shiro had every intention of going out to get laid in an hour. 

“You seem happy,” he offered, eventually. Shiro looked down at him, with a tenderness that Keith’s dark eyes couldn’t help but drink in. 

“I am happy,” he replied. Then he pinched Keith’s nose shut, chuckling when the younger man struggled to get free. While he started with the upper hand, being quick to fend off any attempts at retaliation, the smaller guy was able to eventually wiggle free and mount a devastating offensive - mostly by jabbing at Shiro’s pecs. “I yield, I yield!” he cried. 

Satisfied, Keith settled back. Shiro’s phone buzzed, the older man turning his attention to it immediately.

“I need to get going,” he said, after checking the text. Keith rolled out of the way as Shiro rose and grabbed his bike leathers from the hook by the door. He swung the jacket on in front of the mirror, doing one last, completely unabashed check of how his jeans framed his ass. He caught sight of Keith’s reflection observing him. 

“Do I look good?” he asked, hands posed on cocked hips, jeans tight, chest on full display. 

“You’re asking _my_ opinion?” the sunburned guy, sporting fingerless gloves and a mullet asked, incredulous... though he had to admit, his mouth watered at the sight. 

Shiro’s shoulders fell with an exaggerated sigh. He plucked his wallet and keys from the nightstand, making sure to emphasize the pained look in his eyes. 

“Keith... years of advice, yet nothing’s rubbed off on you?” he bemoaned. He wagged a finger, chastising, as he strode to the door. “Tip number two: when someone asks if they look good? Just say yes!” 

Keith rolled his eyes at him, netting a chuckle. “Lock the door when you leave?” Shiro asked, halfway out. 

“Will do.” He wasn’t planning on staying much longer anyways.

The door shut, only for Shiro to poke his head back in. “Do you want to come, Keith?” he asked, a note of concern in his voice. “I mean, we could probably figure out something else to do, if you really wanted-,” 

This time Keith’s eyes nearly rolled out of his head. “No! Shiro, just go have fun!” he ordered, waving off the last of Shiro’s concern. The Japanese guy laughed, acquiescing at last, and disappeared out the door. Keith waited on the couch for a few minutes longer, staring intently at the door, before he stirred and set an alarm on his watch for forty minutes. 

He had some time to kill before he went after him. A… seemingly interminable amount of time.

His head fell backwards onto the back of the couch. He blew the hair out of his eyes, patted his thighs a couple times. Without Shiro, the room felt empty. Almost painfully so. Quiet and unassuming as he was, he still had a presence about him, an aura that commanded attention. It made his absence far more noticeable than it should.

Not that Shiro’s room did the guy any favors, not with how dull it was in comparison to the man himself. Everything was meticulously bare, almost obsessively so. Bed? Made, sheets fitted. Walls? Bare, no posters, no pictures. Desk? Squared away before the window, no clothes left on the floor, no books on the coffee table, not even a mess in the tiny kitchenette. 

The only thing out of place was the gym shirt Shiro had forgotten on the arm of the couch. 

Keith sighed.

A better man would resist the urge to prowl. Fortunately for Keith, he knew he was not a better man - at least, not when it came to Shiro - and he had zero qualms about rifling through his stuff. He wandered over the desk in front of the window.

Most of it was boring, as usual. A couple of textbooks for whatever advanced physics course he was taking. His laptop, which Keith didn’t even bother to open, though he knew the password. It never had anything good on it, and either Shiro was too good at deleting his browser history or else the guy didn’t look at porn at all. Not that Keith did himself, for that matter; at least, not often, but he had no illusions about someone being able to pull _something_ up in his search history. There were a couple sites he visited just a bit too often to fly under the radar. 

Beneath the laptop was an open, electronic scheduler. The next two months of meetings, assignments, and due dates were neatly organized, color-coded, and set to put out alerts at important times. Of course, barely two weeks into the semester and Shiro had everything already all mapped out.

Including a big circle, along with a birthday cake, on the 23rd. Keith’s mouth twitched, his heart once again doing that weird little trill. 

He needed a distraction. And because he was _not_ a better man, his first thought went straight to digging through the stuff Shiro didn’t want him to see.

Honestly, he was tempted. The black-haired boy stalked about the room, fingers reaching out to graze each place that held… the things Shiro no doubt thought Keith wasn’t even capable of thinking about. The first was the half-dresser, stuffed partway into the upperclassman’s open closet. Top drawer held everyday briefs, rightside, and athletic gear, left. Leftside used to be all jocks, but as those disappeared they’d been replaced with compression shorts. A hamper beside it, with today’s gym-clothes on top. Keith’s nose twitched, but he willed himself to move on, circling the small room to the double-bed, and the nightstand beside it. His fingers drummed the the drawer where Shiro kept “Victor” - whose name Keith only knew because he’d inferred it from in-jokes between Shiro and Adam - but again, he willed himself to be strong, moving back to the couch, where the black compression shirt lay draped over the arm. 

It smelled like him. His bodywash, mostly, but the freshman’s keen nose could pick out the warm smell of Shiro’s sweat beneath it. He stood there, a moment, feeling the touch of the underarmor on his cheek, the scent of Shiro all around him. 

Mouth parting, sharp teeth on full display, he marched over to the bed, flopped backwards, the shirt draped over his face. The sharp, clean smell of laundered sheets cut through the mix of soap and sweat, but if anything it made the feel of the man all around him that much more real. When he rolled, he could imagine Shiro’s body, big and broad, right behind him. He could imagine his arms sliding about him, clutching the man, his nose pressed tight to his back, his legs tangling between those powerful thighs, his dick being pressed into such warmth - Keith rolled over, grinding his hips against the mattress, eyes sightless, teeth bared. 

He thrust, hard, the shirt balled in his mouth, heedless of his dick, still bent downwards along his legs. If anything, the pain helped, his blood surging, the wave cresting and then allowing him to fall. He dropped his head, force of will being the only thing that kept him from getting off right then and there. 

“Shiro,” he sighed, taking another deep whiff of the scents around him. Keith forced himself to lay there, toes twitching, dick still aching, thoughts swirling around the huge, steady, handsome, and wonderful man who slept there nightly. 

Try as he might, his anticipation just would not fade. All he could think of was Shiro’s smile, wide and broad, of his big, soft, near-black eyes, of the compassion he could see in them when Shiro looked at him. The thoughtless grace the man had when he moved, trained as if he were a dancer instead of star athlete, a mixture of power and precision Keith had yet to find in anyone else. Perfect, handsome, and easy-going, his strong arms able to wrap about him, able to crush Keith to his breast in a way that never failed to leave him aroused and desperate for more… A noise caused him to start.

It was his watch. He’d sunk so deep into the swirl of those thoughts that he almost didn’t realize his alarm was beeping.

Finally.

Wasting no time, the lithe young man sprang to his feet and was through the door in a flash, the lock clicking on his way out. He moved with purpose, straight for his hoverbike on the far side of the lot. He had a lot of ground to cover if he wanted to make it through the badlands before it got too dark. A hoverbike was great for offroading, but only an idiot took that sort of risk at night. 

Straddling his red bike, Keith paused, noticing the sunset, the incredible array of blues, reds, and purples on the horizon. His heart still pounded, now with the thrill of the chase thrown in as well. He checked his gloves, checked his helmet, and, kicking hard, revved his bike to take off, ignoring the roads and blazing a trail of dust across the barren sand. 

It was just forty minutes to Liberty Springs by road. Quicker to cut straight there, though harder to navigate the endless gulches between the two towns. He shot down an embankment at break-neck speed, using the momentum to sail up the steep wall on the other side. His hoverbike landed without a moment’s dip in speed, the skilled rider easily compensating for torque. It was probably a good thing that he’d be able to blow off some steam along the way. He could already tell it was going to be hell coming back. 

Face set in grim determination, Keith wove his way towards the sunset, flying effortlessly across a path he’d come to know well.. The forty minute lead meant nothing. He didn’t need a map, didn’t even need to check the time. 

He knew where Shiro was going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun trivia! 
> 
> Keith's birthday is Oct. 23rd.


	2. Those chance encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go awry after Keith finds out what Shiro does in Liberty Springs. Lots of sexual situations, pay attention to tags.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter notes: Keith is still half-galra. Guess which half!
> 
> Also, the year is like 2100 or whatever, homophobia is gone and so are stds.

The sun had almost set by the time the lights of Liberty Springs came into view. Keith maneuvered his hoverbike from a gulch and onto one of the back roads, warily scanning for Shiro’s distinctive black bike. People were out and about here, too, blowing off the last bit of summer steam while the weather lasted. Lot of excitement for the weekend, for the game - which must have gone well, given all the cheering he heard. 

“Good night to be out, Shiro?” he muttered to himself when he he had to stop for yet another group of drunken revelers, stumbling across the street. He ignored them; because he already knew that his friend wasn’t here just to get drunk and crow about a sports game. 

The light turned, and he revved back to lift-speed and took off, taking a left, then a right, away from the Liberty Springs campus proper and onto a street packed with college students, Greek symbols on almost all the houses.

_He hadn’t meant to follow him. At least, not the first time._

_Honestly. He had just been out, cruising the badlands, wind in his hair, a gorgeous sunset at his back, and had stopped to appreciate the view. Then he caught sight of a black hoverbike, speeding across the horizon._

_Just chance, that’s all. There weren’t many black hoverbikes in the area, and certainly none that had pilots who handled them so well, or cruised at such breakneck speeds._

_Excited, Keith chomped through the rest of his protein bar and revved his bike back into motion, chasing after that disappearing cloud. He thought it’d just be a bit of fun, a chase with a surprise at the end, a chance to see that warm smile Shiro always seemed to have just for him whenever he turned about to see him. He’d just wanted to surprise him, that’s all._

_It didn’t take long for him to figure out that Shiro was heading into Liberty Springs; a nearby rival, a college town, boasting more old money and more antipathy for the Garrison than most, for all that half their faculty worked on research there. Keith had driven through it a couple times, mostly just when there was road work being done and the detour forced him to, but wasn’t terribly familiar with it. With his head start, Shiro had disappeared into streets outside the town’s college - a state university, bustling with people._

_Having pursued him this far, Keith thought he’d give tracking him down a shot, out of idle curiosity if nothing else. He found Shiro’s black bike quickly enough, after only about thirty minutes of searching, parked on a leafy street with big old houses._

A bunch of parties going on at the time, just like there were now. Young adults streaming in and out of each house, people lingering on the porches, smoking, drinking. He cruised down the same, tree-lined street as he had before, eyes searching until they finally landed on a black hoverbike, complete with white lightning bolts along the side. 

_Keith pulled up alongside it, letting his own bike drop to the ground. A couple of guys outside the big house seemed to notice him, but he ignored them, eyes scanning the bright-lit windows. A lot of people in them, people laughing, drinking. In an upstairs window, a girl was getting undressed for a guy and another girl, none of them seeming to care about who might be watching._

_When he walked through the front door, he understood why. The whole party had a charge to the air, the smell of sex and booze, pot, permeating everything. His skin had prickled the moment he walked in, his footsteps instinctually lightening; cautious of how he moved through the people downstairs. It didn’t seem like the kind of party Shiro would go to, not the guy who thrived on routine, who_ enjoyed _the opportunity to upload his syllabi to his scheduler._

_Yet that was his bike outside._

This time Keith didn’t set down right beside it. He pulled up and over the curb, setting down closer to the front door than he’d like, but at least there were some bushes in the way. 

He paused, eying the house. This place was different than the other one. That one had been a seedy frathouse, paint-chipped pillars, doors that looked a hundred years old. Floorboards that squealed with every footstep, and windows that probably couldn't even close. This place looked like it came with the word 'credentials' written in gold ink and cursive. Massive: one of the expansive, nouveau-riche places near the edge of town, though still close enough to the college to make it clear whose money funded it. 

For all its airs, however, there were the exact same people milling about. Like most parties, there were hangers-on, riff-raff, boys with baggy clothes that hung outside and wan girls beside them. This one was hardly any different. Perfect, for the Garrison student; that made it easier to blend in.

The letter-jacketed pledge manning the door certainly didn’t seem to be interested in his job, paying much more attention to a tiny girl who seemed to keep playing with her hair whenever he looked at her. Keith waited for the man’s interest to stick before he strode by, brusquely clapping him on the shoulders. The new pledge barely even glanced at him, just nodded a greetings before going back to the blushing girl. 

He’d learned that trick from the annoying Cuban guy that lived down the hall from him in the Garrison’s student dorms. Lance McDonald or whatever. 

Once inside, it was easier. All he had to do was keep his shoulders up, chin cocked, mirroring the cocky attitudes of the big dogs in the room - the guys with sweaters tied about their shoulders, who, even drunk, couldn’t lose their airs. 

He loitered for a bit by the kitchen, snatching a red cup of something boozy; feigning interest in the music, trying to fit in. Appear _normal_ , because otherwise his dark eyes, intense stare, were the kind of thing that got noticed. People tended to have a sixth sense about that sort of thing, especially when doing the things they did when they thought no one was looking. The lead fratboy, for example, in the middle of chatting to two gorgeous, blonde sorority girls, got a squeeze on his big, white-khakis-clad ass, from what looked like the quintessential fratbro; he even had the backwards cap and a jersey. Fratbro, beer in one hand, arm about the sweater-boy’s shoulders, ground his hips forward, faking that he was just razzing him, when the view from anywhere else made it clear that he had thing in mind… something that was reciprocated when the frat’s leader slipped his free arm down to give him a surreptitious squeeze. 

Keith watched them disappear upstairs, both maintaining that air of jocular camaraderie… up until he heard the door slam. 

_There was no sign of Shiro that first time, either. Not in either of the living rooms, packed with drunk students, men and women pawing at each other while music with way too much bass pounded in the background. Not in the kitchen, littered with bottles, some opened, some not. Not outside in the back, where an equal number of men - well, mostly men - appeared to be passing joints and kissing._

_Maybe it had just been that the party was getting to him. The loudness, the noise, the press of people, too many for him to feel comfortable. He wanted a dark place, a corner to slink away into and get his bearings._

_A stairway loomed beside him, then, only it wasn’t just the promise of breathing room that led him up it; his gut, screaming to him that Shiro had gone up there, was what had made him turn and place his foot on the creaky, wooden stair._

_He could still remember that first step he’d taken; it had creaked so loudly he'd almost thought it'd cracked beneath his weight. Then, almost before he knew what he was doing, he was up that flight, wandering around a corner, passing bedrooms - some with doors shut, some ajar, some completely open - with moans coming out of them. He'd… mostly… averted his eyes._

He took a deep swig of whatever was in his cup, for courage, and patterred right up after the two fratboys. 

The upstairs was darkened. A portrait of some imposing old guy loomed over the landing. Something thudded against the door beside it, the faint moan of an “ooh yeah” reaching his ears. 

Just like before, he slunk past doors with various amounts of people behind them, most closed, some open. The sounds were getting to him, though, the smell of sex - both male and female - filling his nose. He knew what this party was for. What people had come here to do. His mouth parted, fangs flashing in the dim light. Despite the noise downstairs, or perhaps _because_ of it, the sounds that reached his ears seemed to be heard that much more acutely. In fact, if he strained, he could almost hear… 

Head cocked, he slipped down a hallway that was eerily reminiscent of the one he’d passed down before, towards a door that had been left ajar. He listened again, the trepidation that had been building in his veins _surging_ now that he was so close...

_Back then, two big guys in tight shirts and even tighter jeans, high and giggling, hands all over each other, stumbled past him. They moved, in crude unison, towards that dark, wooden door at the end of the hall._

_The laugh he heard when they opened it drew him in, heart pounding, everything in him knowing but_ not _-_

He almost couldn’t move, his body was so tense, anticipation burning through his thoughts, both then and now. 

_The guys didn’t close the door when they entered. One stripped off his shirt, the other unbuckling his pants almost before they actually got into the room. The air reeked of sweat, of semen, and as he crept forward, not one floorboard creaking underfoot, it became clear there were a _lot_ of guys in that room. The two men who’d just entered were pulled apart, hands groping them, helping them out of the rest of their clothes from either side. _

_“Sven!” the one with no pants cheered, wiggling his hips, “You’re back! I got something for you!”_

**Sven.** He was here. The Garrison student was sure of it; his military training, his instincts, his senses, all of it _screamed_ at him that -

His ears pricked, and he spun to one side, leaning nonchalantly against the wall. The door beside him swung open, two fratboys in only their underwear stumbling out, giggling. The dishwater blonde, a tanned guy with very tight abs and cheap tats, tried to sober himself up, grabbing for the preppy-looking guy in front of him, just as he tumbled into Keith.

“Woah!” The lithe track star caught the near-naked man, who seemed more interested in feeling up Keith’s body than in righting himself. 

“Nice arms,” he murmured, before he brought his eyes up to Keith’s face, where they lit up in recognition. “Haven’t seen your handsome self in a while!”

Even though he was bad with faces, Keith was pretty sure he’d never actually met this guy. Unless, maybe... 

“You know him, Griffin?” the dishwater blonde asked, in a very British accent that was one ‘Cheerio!’ away from being cliche. When he bent to help lift the brunette up, Keith caught a glimpse of a familiar tattoo in the small of the man’s back: two ornate lines, curling about themselves in an arrow pointing down to the man’s pert little butt. 

“Yeah I do!” Griffon exclaimed. He winked at the black-haired boy, holding a finger to his lips. “Don’t tell him!” 

“You’ve been here before.” The Brit said it with certainty, but not because he was looking at Keith’s face. His hungry gaze lingered a moment longer before moving up from the some-day astropilot’s crotch. “But you only watch, right?”

Technically not ‘here’-here, but Keith didn’t mince words. He just jerked his chin in tight acknowledgement. “Yeah.”

“I knew I recognized that… bulge,” he explained, sliding up against his friend to corner Keith against the wall. Keith didn’t even need his sensitive nose to pick up the scent of beer and sex on both of them. “Sorry ‘bout Griffon, mate.” 

His pretty friend snickered, leaning against the wall before Keith, who was surprised that he was actually a touch taller than himself. “I’m a bit of a lightweight.” Griffon patted the Brit’s taut stomach, boldly hooking his fingers into the front of the waistband. “And Liam makes _great_ brownies.”

“Old family recipe,” the guy - Liam - choked, as Griffon proceeded straight to fondling him in front of the taciturn stranger. He proffered a smile. “Hey, what’s your name anyway?”

“Uh,” Keith stalled. That annoying, excitable guy from his engineering class, the one who flailed at everything, came to mind. “Lance.”

The pretty brunette shot him a weird look, one that Keith didn’t know how to interpret. “Oh, like Sven?”

His tone was far too innocent, but Keith chose to ignore it. “Is he here tonight?” he asked, trying to sound casual. 

“Is he here?” Liam’s grin was wide, the young man clearly pleased with himself. “He’s going blindfolded, the whole night!” 

Griffon leaned into Keith. “Liam had to agree to finally take his whole cock, not just the first six inches.” He said the last part derisively.

“Hol’ up! Six inches is plenty much, I’ll have you know!” Then Liam closed his eyes, wincing. “Cor, he’s gonna split me in two, ain’t he?”

Griffon shot him a wicked grin. “In twain.”

Very conscious of their proximity, Keith swallowed, shifting stances. “You,” he began, clearing his throat. “You just going to talk about him, or actually get to it?”

Both fratboys turned on him then, a wild cast to Liam’s face that the ex-delinquent-turned-Garrison student knew all too well, while his preppy friend seemed to take a perverse glee in the Brit being challenged.

“Sven, right? It’s always fuckin’ Sven, the guy’s a _legend_ ,” Liam hissed, reaching past Keith to open the door he’d sheltered against. 

It swung open with such terrible ease that all the panic, all the trepidation from moments earlier came surging back, full-force. _Fucking Sven_ , Keith breathed to himself, eyes riveted by the sight of Shiro, naked, save for some sort of fancy black blindfold over his eyes; he was seated on one man’s face while he directed another to his third-leg of a cock. For a long, still moment, one where no time passed, it was just Keith, just Shiro. The details of the room, beyond some rich kid’s bed, didn’t matter. Who the men were, beyond the fact that the one Shiro was seated on was tall, with smooth, dark-brown skin and a face nearly fit for modeling, or the other was willingly fed three thick inches of a brutal cock that still had seven to spare, didn’t matter. 

All that mattered was that Keith was here to bear witness. Like last time, and the time before that: like the _first _time, when he’d thought his heart was going to explode in his chest.__

_Because he’d known then, too. Some prescient part of him had sparked, told him everything he’d needed to know, and yet, he couldn’t stop. He half-feared his body would give out if he did. He couldn't have known who it was the two bros were talking to - there was no way - but still, he knew. He knew._

_Then Keith crept close enough to see Shiro laugh once again, take a swig from a bottle of something, and then grab the guy’s long, half-hard dick and swallow it to the hilt. “Uwa,” Shrio croaked, popping it free. “Did you miss me?”_

_“Fuckin’ Sven, man! Yeah we missed you!” the jock’s shirtless buddy exclaimed, leaning down to kiss him around his friend’s dick. “You gotta let me at your big dick again, man, I ain’t never had anything like it!”_

__Because there was nothing like it. The man was sculpted, physical perfection; a handsome face on top of a narrow waist, broad shoulders, and a tight, muscular ass. His biceps were the size of cantaloupes, and his thighs could crush one._ _

__And his dick…_ _

__Keith watched the blonde ,a white guy with aristocratic features, gag just trying to get halfway down the thick shaft. For all his skill elsewhere, there was just too much of Shiro to fit in his throat; his dick was simply too long, too strong, and too rigid. The Garrison student had no illusions about his own ability, if he were to give it a shot._ _

__Stars above, it looked good though: plump, veiny, framed as it was by Shiro’s manscaped bush of wiry black hair. Saliva filled his mouth at the thought of replacing either man, his blood echoing his desire with a very physical reaction._ _

__It wasn’t just him either. The two preppy fratboys, Liam and Griffon, or something, were staring just as appreciatively, content to soak in the scene, their underwear starting to tent._ _

__He could already tell, even without his military instincts - this time was going to be different._ _

_Frozen by the sight of his hero, the man who’d saved him, being so…_ eager _to be debased, a thousand different scenarios played through Keith’s head. Mostly, it was just that he didn’t understand how the straight-laced, always-controlled, man who could command respect just by entering the room… would even… end up being at the center of a fratboy orgy._

_Maybe it hadn’t started out that way. Maybe it’d been just a chance encounter, some drunken fondling that got a couple more guys involved before they came, sobered up, and pretended it hadn’t happened. Maybe Shiro had just been looking to dump any thoughts about his break-up and lose himself in a one-night stand._

_Keith understood that. Chance encounters - a blowjob under the bathroom stall, a handy in the dark - they were the only ways he’d managed to stay sane the last couple years. A glass of cold water tossed to a bonfire, to be sure, but it was something._

_He hadn’t meant to stay. Hadn’t meant to watch. Had even turned away, the sight of Shiro’s broad, strong back, naked men around him, burned into his brain. He made it to the stairs, heart in his throat, when some greater part of him, some powerful force seized his limbs and he was swung back around._

_He might never get another chance. That thought, more than anything else, drove him back down the hall. Might never again happen, might never get a chance to see Shiro’s face when he opened up, see what he looked like when men_ used _him._

_Heart in his throat, Keith slunk back towards the door at the end of the hall, this time at an angle where he could spy into the room without immediately being seen. An angle where he could watch Shiro take men in his mouth, working the full lengths of their shafts while their knees wobbled, watched him take them in hand, force them to their knees and worship him. Watched them coax Shiro back onto the bed, the interchangeable fratboys around him trying - mostly failing - to take that ten inch, wrist-thick beast that hung between his legs._

_And still Shiro would direct them, his undeniable charisma directing them as he wished, whether he was conscious of it or not. The man was a machine; precise, beautiful._

__Even now, blindfolded, with one guy eating his ass while the other made a futile effort at deepthroating him, Shiro radiated command. Where most guys would come undone, Shrio not only mastered, but came out having conquered all resistance._ _

__Keith watched the brown-skinned, short-haired guy pry Shiro’s cheeks apart, his pink tongue lapping at the man’s hole. “ _Fuck_ ,” he whispered softly. Then he had to plant his heels to keep the two underwear-clad boys from moving him into the room, deftly slipping out of the way. Liam squawked, which got the attention of the guys on the bed. _ _

__“Liam!” Shiro called, hearing the unmistakable accent, “Come get your bangers and mash!” He wagged his dick at them, though it was quickly snatched up by the guy still trying to suck it._ _

__“He knows me fav’rite dish!” Liam squealed, clapping his hands._ _

__The fratboy that had been rimming Shiro’s ass caught sight of Keith and Griffon still in the doorway, and extricated himself, sauntering over, fluffing his shaft a little. He purposely blocked Liam when he tried to get by, stepping close enough that their manhoods rubbed together. It was Liam who broke the stare first._ _

__“Kinkade.” The British guy ran his tongue over his lips, mocking. “Couldn’t wait?”_ _

__The African-American guy, who looked fit for a runway, merely arched a brow. “Could you?”_ _

__“Fair point. Outta my way.” Liam pushed past, falling to his knees next to another blonde, white guy who still managed to maintain a haughty air despite having Shiro’s nuts in his mouth._ _

__Left with the preppy brunette and Keith, Kinkade jerked his chin in greeting. “Sup. Who’s this?”_ _

__“‘Lance,’” Keith’s blue-eyed companion supplied, shooting Keith a conspiratorial look, though the Garrison student had no idea why. “He’s cute right?”_ _

__Keith wasn’t sure if he meant himself or Kinkade, who he had to admit was very attractive. The two of them sized each other up, silently, until something in Garrison student’s stance seemed to pass the African-American guy’s measure. The man’s rich, brown eyes deepened slightly, and he gestured imperiously, as though he weren’t completely naked. “You gonna join us tonight?”_ _

__“Yeah!” Griffon leapt on the idea, grabbing Keith’s arm. “You should!”_ _

__The notion thrilled him, but there was really no way he could. He demurred, saying, “No, I shouldn’t…” but it was weak. Enough that the fratboys picked up on it._ _

__“Why not?” Griffon demanded. “You’re absolutely hot as fuck, if that’s what you’re thinking…” Kinkade grunted some sort of agreement._ _

__Nonplussed, since he knew he looked nothing like Shiro, Keith just sort of stood there awkwardly, growing more and more conscious of the two of their bodies pressing close to him. The fraternity brothers were feeling it too, as Kinkade slipped an arm around Keith’s waist and gripped the shaft running down his thigh. “Hoo, shit! Feel this monster, Griffin!” he ordered, feeling out the whole thing’s length._ _

__“Woah - hey,” Keith breathed, steadying himself against their hands but not doing anything else to stop them._ _

__Griffon’s brow furrowed as he felt along. “This can’t be - oh.” He exhaled sharply when he realized just how well-endowed the Garrison student was. “Oh.”_ _

__He needed a moment to collect his thoughts, before his eyes flicked to Kinkade, who now leaned into Keith’s shoulders. “Nobody else is showing up,” he said, frowning._ _

__“What, really?” Kinkade was warm against his back, and his hand had yet to stop rubbing Keith’s long, hard rod. “Not even those sluts on the football team?”_ _

__“Well they had a game, so I’m betting they’re out looking for Garrison guys right now.”_ _

__Griffon said it so derisively that Keith felt they were really a couple of kettles calling out the pots, but he wisely kept that observation to himself._ _

__The pretty, preppy boy’s big blue eyes found Keith’s. “We could use another guy,” he murmured, stepping close. Taller than Keith by a couple inches, he leaned in, close enough to kiss, his fingers continuing to tease the shorter man’s length. Behind Keith, the model-esque Kinkade frowned._ _

__“Am I not enough for you, babe?” he asked, pressing his naked body - and a very decently-sized erection - into Keith’s back. He ground into him, enough that Keith could tell he was enjoying the friction._ _

__Attention shifting to the even taller man’s cool gaze, Griffin took that final step forward, dropping his underwear in the hall and pushing them into the doorway. “It’s more that I don’t think either of us are enough for Sven,” he murmured, lips almost pressed to Kinkade’s pouty mouth. Sandwiched between them, Keith boggled at the press of two hot guys from either side, not quite sure if he should follow his drive to embrace it or his natural caution and break free. The debate was settled when the pretty-boy’s big friend reached down to palm the outline of Keith’s dick._ _

__Kinkade smirked. “This guy could be.” As he spoke, he lifted Keith off his feet, dragging him backwards into the room. Griffon was hot to follow, one hand rubbing his own crotch while the other slipped up Keith’s black shirt. He spread his fingers across his abs._ _

__Reeling, the Garrison student tried to protest. “Guys, I really don’t -,” he began, blood quickening as the fratboys’ hands explored further. They were being _very_ persuasive. “Well…” He looked to where Shiro, blindfolded, had buried his dick in what had to be a very talented throat, if the Brit could take a man of his size to the root. Shiro had the guy pinned by his head, and was face-fucking him with long, slow strokes._ _

__That could be him. By the stars, _that could be him_._ _

__All he had to do was keep his mouth shut. He rallied, shooting the two the cocky, asshole smirk he’d seen that Lance kid flash whenever he wanted to impress a girl in class. “I don’t think you know what you’re in for.”_ _

__The other blonde, this one with wavy, perfectly curled locks and a gray satin t-shirt - but nothing else - came over, oozing ‘culture’ from the moment he opened his mouth. “What’s this?” he asked, with perfect enunciation. “A new guy?” He smirked, though clearly piqued by the sight of this lithe, dark stranger in bike leathers. One hand went to tug at his erection, hidden behind his shirt. “Never seen you before.”_ _

__Kinkade was having none of it. “You’d have to start looking above the belt buckle to see a face, Ellis,” he drawled._ _

__Too his credit, the tall guy just shrugged. “When you got talent, you need to use it.” His gaze fell to the bulge in Keith’s jeans. “Speaking of, don’t just stand there, stranger, show us what you got!”_ _

__Feeling reckless, eager to meet the challenge he saw in the naked interest in their eyes, Keith ignored the heat in his cheeks and stiffly unbuttoned his jeans. That was all it took for his dick to spring free, the awe on the men’s faces quickly turning to something tinged with fear._ _

__“Holy shit!” the guy they’d called Ellis blurted, while Kinkade jerked backwards. “What the fuck man!” He forced the lithe track star’s tight jeans lower, exposing the full length of the beast he’d been hiding in his pants. “Is that thing real??”_ _

__Flushing, Keith tried to downplay it. “I-is something wrong?”_ _

__“Your dick is HUGE!” the tall, pale blonde shouted, while Kinkade gaped down from over his shoulder, one brown hand tugging at the base of Keith’s dick. He had much more of a reaction. “What do you mean ‘is something wrong’, that thing’s fucking alien!”_ _

__The Garrison student choked, cheeks practically on fire. Sure, he was a bit bigger than most guys - well, all guys he’d ever met - and the tip was a darker shade of violet than most men, and maybe he’d never seen anyone with quite the same... unusual, layered shape to the glans, but it couldn’t be _that_ odd._ _

__The preppy fratboy who’d roped him into this certainly wasn’t put off. “Hah, Ryan, haven’t you ever seen a gene-mod?” Griffin taunted, enthralled with how easily Keith’s foreskin retracted over his glans. His eyes positively sparkled when he looked at Keith. “Your family must be loaded.”_ _

__None of it was at all true, but Keith rolled with it. “Sure,” he murmured, not meeting any of their gaze._ _

__More skeptical, Kinkade watched the stylish brunette tease it further. “Is that what a gene-mod looks like?” the African-American guy asked, scratching his head, but he was distracted by the white, richy, blonde guy getting Shiro’s attention._ _

__“Dude, Sven,” he called, his hand displacing Griffin’s, “This new guy’s got a fucking gene-mod on his dick!”_ _

__“Really?” Shiro pushed the British blonde off what had to be one of the thickest cocks Keith had seen on another man. Liam looked put out - until he saw what the rest of his fraternity brothers had dragged in. “No way,” he breathed, moving over._ _

__Terror rolled through Keith as Shiro’s interest piqued, but the man made no move to pull off his blindfold. Instead he got his knees under himself, well-endowed and sculpted, every inch of his body poised to entice. It was more than enough to entrance the crowd of men by the door, who drew closer. “What’s it look like?” he asked, innocently, as if they weren’t all under his spell._ _

“It’s got these fucking _ridges_ man! It’s insane! You’re gonna cum from just getting it in you!” He dragged the Garrison student forward by his dick, guiding him into Shiro’s hand. Keith shuffled woodenly along, stomach churning, until he felt the older man fumble him into hand… and then keep fumbling, incredulous, as there was only more and more dick each time he searched for an end. Then he hit the ridges the other guys had been talking about. 

__“What!” he exclaimed, jerking upright. “This can’t be real!”_ _

__Still gripping Keith’s cock, he nudged his blindfold upward, just enough that his big, black eyes could take in the twelve thick inches of rock-hard Texas meat. “Holy shit!” he swore, awed, tenderly fingering the ribbed protrusions, before tugging at the loose skin gathered below the glans. His eyes sparked, his mouth latching right on to the tip of the track star’s straining cock. The touch of his tongue was enough to make Keith’s balls nearly retract into his body._ _

__“I don’t - you shouldn’t -,” Keith tried, his voice hoarse. Shiro laved the underside with his tongue and he shut up, internally shrieking._ _

The was no way that his best friend hadn’t noticed him. That he _wouldn’t_ notice him, not with his blindfold up, not with Keith’s dick _in his mouth_. All it would take is one split-second glance up, and - 

__“Heeey, no sneaking this off, mate!” Liam teased, flopping on Shiro’s back to slide the blindfold back down. “You’re supposed to have to guess which one of us you’re fuckin’!”_ _

__Chuckling, Shiro shrugged the Brit off him, ruefully waving Keith’s dick in his general direction. “Gonna be pretty easy to figure out which one is the new guy.”_ _

__“Where’d you even find him?” the beautiful black guy, Kinkade, asked, his hands seeming torn between pulling at Liam and pulling at Griffon._ _

__The brown-haired fratboy smirked, turning to let Kinkade mouth at his dick. “Wandering the hall.” His eyes bored into Keith’s, as if daring him to speak._ _

__“Wish you’d been here last week,” Keith heard Shiro mutter, under his breath. Part of Keith wondered if it’d even meant to be said aloud at all; the greater part of him, however, was still paralyzed by his friend’s predatory mouth. Like a hunter, he nipped at the weak points of the Garrison student’s length, palms moving upwards to grasp his boney hips._ _

__Shiro must have felt the tension radiating from the poor freshman at that point, because a wide, cocky smirk crossed his face as his head tilted upwards. “Hey man, relax.” Shiro pressed his lips to the side of Keith’s flared glans as he spoke, sneaking his tongue out in a kittenish sweep across the under-ridges. “I know what I’m doing.”_ _

__“Hwah.” the freshman squeaked, his heart thundering against his ribs. Now if only he could figure out how to breathe again._ _

__Unfortunately for Keith, the handsome astropilot was in no mood to wait. He attacked the poor Garrison student with zeal, kissing up and down the length of his shaft, burying his face in his pubes. He even teased Keith’s belly-button once he found it, having bumped into it with his nose during his exploration of solid foot of cock that Keith had to offer. Nothing seemed to fascinate him such much as the fat head and ribbed underside of Keith’s erection, however._ _

Spit ran down Shiro's chin, and he would pant, loudly, excited, each time the enormous glans popped out of his mouth. Despite having been blown a couple of times before - all by strangers on the other side of a bathroom stall - Keith felt like he was a virgin all over again. Some of them had had Shiro’s skill, and some his enthusiasm, it was so wildly different to see the man’s face when he took him in his mouth, to watch his jaw distend, _see_ him be eager to explore every detail with his tongue. 

__Distracted, the track star barely noticed one of the wealthy fratboys, Ellis - or some other rich-kid name - come up beside him, dick long and erect, trapped behind his loose gray t-shirt. He met Keith’s violet gaze for a moment, eyes raking appreciatively across the freshman’s muscular - if wiry - frame, before he glanced down at Shiro. Flashing Keith a devilish, drunken grin, Ellis reached out to caress the back of the astropilot’s head… and then rudely shove him forward._ _

__Shiro gagged, pulling back sharply as Ellis danced away, hooting. “Next guy who does that is getting my fist in their ass!” he snapped, sputtering._ _

__“Ooo,” the pale blonde cooed, his hard dick leaving a trail of precum across his T. “Hear that, Griffin?” He reached over to fondle the preppy fratboy’s butt. “We could finally loosen up that tight hole of yours!”_ _

__Kinkade glanced over towards them, one hand idly pulling at his long, dark cock. “If you don’t know how to get him loose, you ain’t doing it right.”_ _

__Ellis pouted at him, still stroking himself. Then he goosed Griffon, who yelped, but couldn’t be distracted from Shiro’s exploration of Keith’s monstrous rod._ _

__Peanut gallery falling in-line, the commanding graduate student relaxed, letting himself get lost in the feel of the shaft against his nose, the smooth, nearly silk-like underside and the curious ridge-like protrusions about the glans. He visualized that brief glimpse that he’d gotten, mouth salivating even as he lewdly swirled his tongue around the flared cockhead. The tensing of the man’s dick in his hand told him how appreciated that was. Shiro smiled, small, secretive. Pleased with himself._ _

__Keith, his dick painfully erect, watched as Shiro cupped his tongue around the glans, lathing the entire surface with wet pressure. Then Shiro thinned his tongue into a point and forced it as far into the deep slit in the head as it could go._ _

__The freshman felt his knees tremble, but Shiro was still too busy enjoying himself. After an experimental swallow of the entire, nearly plum-colored tip, he pulled his head back, tongue still extended, a thin string of precum attached. He swallowed, noisily, and licked his lips, unaware of the string breaking and falling onto his pecs._ _

__Clearing his throat, he suckled at the head of the shaft a couple more times, before backing up completely. “On the bed.”_ _

__His tone made it clear he expected to be obeyed._ _

__Still, Keith hesitated a moment, before awkwardly kicking off his shoes and trying to get his jeans off the rest of the way. His rock-hard dick bobbed distractingly._ _

__Ellis, behind him, gave a helpful shove when he didn’t move fast enough. The black-haired boy tumbled into bed, where Shiro - just as helpfully - grabbed the skinny jeans and yanked them off, Keith’s generous endowment flopping about. He tried to keep his pale legs together, but they were forced apart in an instant by the huge, naked, Garrison graduate, who loomed over him: powerful and dangerous._ _

__For a second, Keith thought Shiro was going to press closer, make ready to _fuck_ him. His dick spasmed. _ _

__The handsome Japanese man ran his hands down the inside of Keith’s thighs, feeling the fine black hairs, dipping lower to the coarser, more wiry, near-purple-looking pubes about his nuts. Shiro’s fingers slid over them, gently, starting in surprise when he felt their weight. “Big balls too?” He shook his head, sliding down to his elbows, using his lips, his tongue to explore Keith’s shaft. “You’re ready-made for me, aren’t you?”_ _

__Another strangled mewl slipped from Keith’s lips._ _

__His dick was so hard already, and the way Shiro nursed the tip, his tongue teasing the ribbed lines beneath the glans, the way he tasted the rich purple head, lapped continuously at the near-constant flow of white, pearly beads that got squeezed out with each firm tug, was driving him to a point beyond sanity. At that moment, all he wanted to do was grab the man’s face and pull it to his, suck that treacherous tongue into his mouth and then taste him, devour all that he was._ _

__Keith’s hips bucked, another, louder sob escaping him when Shiro finally eased his length back into his throat. His hands went to tangle in his hair, pushing upwards desperately with his legs, but the former track star’s muscular arms were enough to keep him in place._ _

__On his back, in a room with four naked guys stroking themselves, watching as Shiro hungrily devoured his dick, Keith couldn’t stop the wire inside him from snapping._ _

__A long, arcing spray of semen shot across Shiro’s face, in an instant of blessed release, before the tanned man clenched his fist about the base of Keith’s mighty cock. He squeezed, hard, forcibly holding the Garrison student in place with his forearms as Keith furiously tried to do everything he could to not bare his teeth and sink his fangs into his friend’s neck._ _

“Bloody hell,” Liam swore, leaning over Shiro’s broad shoulder. “Did he cum from just getting his bellend in your _mouth_?!” 

__Licking the seed that had landed on his lips, Shiro shot a grin in his direction. “Almost.” Slowly, he eased his white-knuckle grip on Keith’s erection, which twitched, angrily, but did not spurt. Shiro used his thumb to swipe at the trail of semen across one cheek, pink tongue darting out to lick it up. If it were anyone else, his smugness would have been infuriating. “I told you, I know what I’m doing.”_ _

“You _asshole_ ,” Keith spat, his voice scratchy, raw. Stars above, he felt like a pool of lead had been shot back down into his balls. 

__Shiro cooed, kissing the meaty middle of his shaft. “Aw, buddy! I’m sorry. But there’s a lot more I wanna do with you.”_ _

_I could do that_ and _still cum!_ Keith wanted to snarl, but his tongue felt too thick in his mouth to talk. Especially when Shiro rose up again, his sculpted chest, his jutting ten inches of mean-looking cock on full display. 

__Obediently, Keith scooched down, spreading his legs to let Shiro at his hole, but the Garrison’s legendary pilot had other ideas. He pulled the freshman’s legs straight and moved forward to straddle Keith’s tiny hips, which looked even smaller with the muscular thighs about them for comparison. He looked up to Shiro, in awe of how the man could project command, even when blindfolded._ _

“Alright big guy,” he said, to the lithe, little track star that had never been called that in his life, “We’re going to see if you know how to actually use this thing.” 

__Keith felt his cock spurt a little._ _

__Maybe Shiro’d been right to edge him off._ _


	3. Those things unfinished

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More sexual situations. Read fic tags.

Keith couldn’t move for fear of breaking whatever spell had landed him here, with Shiro naked, straddling him, and about to seat himself on the black-haired boy’s monstrous length. 

Brain still overloaded by the sight of the man’s plump pecs, the play of shadow across his abs, the fact that his hands couldn’t even cover part of his thighs, Keith didn’t catch on to what Shiro was doing until the graduate student reached behind himself to pour lube onto his dick. 

Any anger Keith had just felt was instantly retracted. His dick swelled, seeming to pull what little blood remained anywhere else in his body. Shiro smirked. “You like that?”

“Yeah,” Keith whispered, incapable of coherent thought. 

But then he felt Shiro lift and plant his hole directly over the tip of his massive, straining cock, and Keith might as well have been hurtling through the stars. He could feel him part about him, keenly aware of each prodigious inch as he stretched the man open. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before; warm, tight, softer even than Shiro’s tongue, and _smooth_ , clutching at him as if it needed him. 

“No way!” the guys around them yelled, cheering him on. “Go Sven! Get your dick!” 

“Whoo,” Shiro breathed, face a mask of concentration. He groped lower, trying to figure out how much of the gene-boy’s shaft was left. His eyebrows peeked out of the blindfold when he realized he wasn’t even halfway down. 

Panting in unison, Keith ran his hands hands along Shiro’s muscular thighs, knuckles grazing - but not yet daring to touch - the man’s dark, sizeable cock. The way the pink head contrasted with the loose, brown foreskin that still covered it called to him, urged him to take it into his mouth, do the things with his tongue that Shiro had done to him, but he was afraid that if he moved, it would be to simply slam the man the rest of the way down his fat shaft. As it was, tongue and toes curling as Shiro continue to sink, continued to spread himself wide on a solid foot of cock, Keith was hard-pressed to not simply thrust _up_.

Fortunately, the big, future astroexplorer had the sense to brace his descent with his hands on Keith’s narrow hips. He also had the experience to let his ass swallow the meatiest part of the shaft at its own pace, his hole finally bottoming out at the wide base of the monstrous cock. “FUCK!” he cried, letting his weight drop him the last centimeter, til the whole, throbbing beast had been trapped within him.

“He too big for you, samurai?” the asshole guy, Ellis, cooed from his place beside the bed. 

Even blindfolded, Shiro still knew how to throw a punch. His fist shot out, _thwacking_ the fratboy’s bare stomach. The blonde doubled forward, chortling, despite having to clutch himself from the pain.

Satisfied with his retaliation, Shiro settled down fully, running his hands possessively up Keith’s narrow chest. “No, he’s just never had to take a guy that’s half-horse!” the blonde Brit joked, stroking himself, eyes cloudy, fixated on the sight of Shiro’s bubble-butt swallowing a full gene-mod to the root. 

“He’s probably all horse, at this point!” Ellis crowed. Kinkade, the African-American guy who’d helped crowd Keith into the room, scowled. “That’s not how it works, dumbass!” 

Shiro ignored them. Although blindfolded - or perhaps, because of it - he conveyed a sense of purpose, of enduring scrutiny, as his hands slid over Keith’s six-pack, along his ribs, squeezing at his pecs. He paused to fondle them, the interest on his face enough to make the skinny track star’s heart burst. 

“I can feel your heartbeat,” the man whispered, below the fratboy din. He shifted his weight, rolling his hips around the great length he’d just taken. “Relax, mod-boy. Just focus on the moment.” 

Beneath him, _inside_ him, Keith was half-afraid his dick was so hard it’d snap and just go soft completely. 

_Focus._ He closed his eyes, minutely rocking his hips, desperate to let that wave building inside him crest and fall. Visualizing it, he let the room, the fratboys, the party, everything else fall away, until it was just himself, with Shiro atop him. For that moment, there was nothing but the warmth of the bigger man’s body, the blood in Keith’s veins, and the pleasure they built between them. 

When he thought of it like that, it made things a lot easier.

With a shaky breath, he slid his hands once more up Shiro’s impressive thighs, daring to go so far as to grasp his waist. Shiro ran his hands along Keith’s arms, his touch soft, encouraging. 

“You finally ready?” the blindfolded man asked, his perfect face made all the more achingly handsome by the sweet, teasing smirk that graced it. 

“Y-yeah,” Keith breathed, giving an experimental thrust. The grunt he got in response emboldened him, so he tightened his grip on Shiro’s broad, tan hips and ground him down on his cock. 

The feel of being inside the man was indescribable. While he’d gotten a couple blowjobs in the past, the skinny track star had never been able to feel someone sink themselves down his entire length, experience the heady warmth of their body tightening about him, milking him, as he thrust. That his first time was with a man whose powerful hands gripped his arms, his pecs, his chest, as the black-haired boy writhed beneath him should have been enough to send him into sensory overload, but Keith had found some deep well of strength within himself.

Eventually he was able to get a solid rhythm going, much to Shiro’s delight and the cheers of the four fratboys watching them. 

“That’s it, you’re doing good!” the Garrison’s top pilot encouraged, between grunts and thrusts. He shifted his weight to his knees, giving Keith that much more room to maneuver. The lithe track star took advantage of it immediately, tightening his grip on Shiro’s hips and shifting to do a series of quick, staccato-fucks. 

“Aagh, yeah! Just like that!” Shiro cried, fisting his cock. He bucked in time with the furious thrusts, matching Keith’s pace with practiced ease - though the wild grin on his face belied just how much Shiro was getting into it. He rode Keith with a fury the black-haired boy had never seen before, bucking his hips in a smooth, perfect glide along the length of Keith’s mammoth shaft. 

The man’s insides were warm, slick from precum and lube, and when he moved, he _gripped_ Keith with every inch of himself, like a heated glove that could send electricity straight to his brain. The spunky freshman’s mouth fell open, his white-knuckle grip on Shiro’s waist not slowing the man so much as forcing repeats of that same, torturous slide. 

Shiro crowed with pleasure when Keith brought his own strength to bear, gamely shifting his weight again to let the man fuck him as he pleased. Still worked up from the frustrating end to the blowjob, Keith could feel that coil start to tighten inside him, building towards that breaking point with each blazing spear of pleasure through his brain. He was not about to let up, however, grunting and thrusting upwards with a seemingly inexhaustible force.

It was starting to have an effect on Shiro, too. His plump balls bounced and slid against Keith’s furry pubes, and his tight ass was getting brutalized by the constant hammering from a solid foot of cock. He fisted himself, one hand pinching his nipple, stroking the underside of a pec, while other worked his shaft, pulling his lengthy foreskin back and forth across the meaty head. 

Keith broke first. One moment he was thrusting, and the next he felt his seed flooding out of him, rocketing into Shiro’s guts while the Garrison student held himself so still he practically vibrated.

That raw power gripping him, the weight and heat of the man filling him was enough to set Shiro over the edge soon after, his ass seizing about Keith’s length and driving the poor boy to start slamming Shiro up and down it again, desperate as he was to get the man to stop moving. 

“Aaaugh!” the astropilot growled, his cock spraying rope after rope of semen along Keith’s stomach, some of it even striking his small pecs. Shiro tugged a few more times, as he lifted his weight up a little. They could both feel the heavy pool of seed slosh inside him. Shiro’s mouth twisted, awed. “That’s one hell of a load!” 

His hand landed right on the mess he’d made across Keith’s chest. Shiro started, before once side of his mouth curled into a smirk. “Woah, did I get you there?” he cooed, smearing it along the track star’s ribs. He moved forward, letting the shaft he’d impaled himself on slip free as he sat to one side, semen gushing out of his hole in the process. 

“Holy fuck dude, look at all that nut!” one of the fratboys exclaimed, but the two on the bed paid them no mind. Trying to catch his breath, Shiro was content to have a moment’s reprieve, while Keith was caught up in the feel of cum spilling down his shaft to pool about his balls now that Shiro’s ass wasn’t there to contain it. His violet eyes shifted to the panting Japanese man, whose thin coating of sweat made his skin shine. The fact that he was still hard didn’t stop his dick from straining at the sight.

He winced, taking himself in hand. In the dim light, his cock looked even more alien than before - the ribbed underside now markedly more pronounced, the head nearly pure purple in color - but Keith paid it no mind. Instead, he moved to nibble at Shiro’s muscular thigh, slink his arms about that firm waist.

The man’s sweat on his tongue galvanized him. Stopping now wasn’t an option. 

Keith flipped them over, their bodies tangling. Shiro, startled, rolled onto his stomach, only to feel the press of the skinny, big-dicked mod-boy on his back, his slimy shaft sliding between his cheeks and a pair of pointy little canines nipping his neck. 

“Haoh, I need this,” the stranger’s guttural voice growled in his ear. One of the arms clutching at him disappeared to align that huge, slick cock with his hole.

Surprised - but excited - the athletic pilot threw a grin over his shoulder, wiggling his hips. It didn’t take much for the head to pop back in, drawing an immediate cry from the black-haired boy on his back. 

“Are you going to - ho!” Shiro’s back arched as the Garrison’s track star slammed home, burying himself to the hilt once more. The older man groaned, teeth tearing at a pillow as this position left his ass spread that much wider, let the gene-mod guy spear that much deeper. “Fuck!” he swore, twisting about, as though he could see. This was different from before, where he was in control; now, about the only thing he could accomplish was moan whenever the stranger drove himself home. For Shiro, who’d already agreed to the blindfold on more of a dare than anything else, his submission was a delightful kind of hell.

For Keith, the fact that he was fucking his best friend, with his own cum for lube, had him dipping in and out of coherent thought. Of all realities, _this_ one was Heaven. He stared downwards, entranced by the man nearly split open by his cock.

From this angle, it was way easier to make Shiro clench and squirm as if he were trying to get away, and had the added bonus of being accompanied by cries of, “Oh yeah, oh yeah! Right there!” each time he snapped his hips forward. He tightened his grip on Shiro’s ass, loving the feel of firm muscle under his hands. His thumbs massaged lower, to where they could force the man’s tan cheeks apart and really give Keith full view of his hole. The sight of his enormous, purple-hued rod disappearing into the man filled the skinny freshman with a sense of purpose, of power. 

Shifting his weight forward, he started to use a long, smooth stroke, making sure his cockhead ground mercilessly against the older man's prostate on each thrust. Shiro’s vocalizations actually stopped, but that only made Keith more confident in how badly he was undoing the man - especially once Shiro had to brace himself against the headboard with one hand. Keith even caught a glimpse of the man biting his lip, the Garrison student’s sensitive ears picking up on the raspy intake of breath.

Beers and dicks forgotten, the fratboys surrounding them just stared as this little newcomer devastated the man who had stormed into their circle and had previously only conquered.

“What are you doing to him?” the pretty fratboy with brown hair breathed, forgetting about the dark-brown hand groping his ass. Ellis, his stiff cock leaking cum across his gray T, admonished him. “What do you think, man? Did you _see_ those ridges?” He spoke without taking his gaze off the two for a second. “That thing’s practically designed to murder prostates!”

Hands slipping from their grip on Shiro’s big, muscular, sweat-slicked ass, Keith shifted his weight to the man’s broad shoulders. From this position he could drag his full length in and out in one go, coldly plunging his flared glans and ribbed underside in to the hilt with each twelve-inch slide. 

Something was happening to the man beneath him, who bucked his ass and shuddered each time the black-haired boy brought himself home. It was a contest of strength that Keith simply did not have the leverage to win, and the way the man’s ass clutched at him, milked his great length each time he spread him wide, was not not helping. 

This time his climax took him completely by surprise; while he’d been trying to reign it in, the sudden warmth of semen flooding his shaft - the pulse of it through his body as his nuts emptied once more - came suddenly, like a break in the damn. 

And once that crack formed, there was no way to stop it. He hunched over, fingers leaving bruises on Shiro’s back, as his body fought to bury itself inside the man completely. 

Still, he didn’t stop, not even when he could feel his load sluicing free with each thrust, splashing against his balls whenever he bottomed out. His reward was a deep moan from Shiro, and the man lifting his hips to stroke his own giant cock to the feel of his guts now doubly-filled with seed. 

Their audience shouted their encouragement. “Shoot it, Sven!” they cried, stroking themselves, each other, as the older man sank his teeth into a pillow. It didn’t take long for him to shoot, not with his balls bouncing against his fist, his asshole straining around the monster Keith had forced inside him.

“Shit, here goes,” the man groaned, body tensing. Long, seedy ropes splattered loudly against the bed, Shiro’s huge balls tightening up, his hole spasming about the track star’s steely length. Keith held himself still, hands gripped tight about Shiro’s waist, enthralled by the weight, the heat, of his muscular cheeks against his thighs. He also got a second chance to feel Shiro’s insides milk him each time he came. 

Eventually, however, the older student pulled away, letting Keith’s cum-soaked cock spring free to slap against the the fuzzy treasure-trail of hair so black it nearly looked purple - along with the athlete’s washboard abs.

“Oh, oh holy-fucking- _stars_ ,” Shiro swore, struggling to catch his breath. He laughed, one messy hand going to his sweat-slick hair. “That was insane!” He straightened, ignoring the streaks of seed that leaked from his bubble-butt. “Two times, back to back? You’re like a -,” he began, disbelief on his face, but he was cut off by Keith flipping him over and lifting his legs up on his shoulders. 

“Again?!” Shiro exclaimed, when he felt that massive, alien beast align with his hole. He braced his arms against the Garrison student’s taut stomach, but it wasn’t enough to prepare him for the moment that Keith slammed himself home. “FUCK!”

Keith hadn’t meant to enter him so roughly; truly, he hadn’t, but all that cum the freshman had dumped in him acted as potent lube, letting him sink to the hilt in one brutal blow. He shifted, trying to get his legs under himself, but that just ground his flared head into a place that had the tall, muscular pilot clawing at his back. Keith threw his head back, fangs flashing. 

The pain was exquisite, so he did it again, harder this time. Shiro made a noise that sounded almost like a squeal, though it was quickly bit back. Nobody else seemed to notice over the noise of the party below, but Keith did. He couldn’t stop himself from trying to get the man to make it again, some dark part of him digging deeper, grinding until he felt Shiro’s nails gouge his flesh. 

His head spun. If the world ended, he wouldn’t notice. 

Suddenly his mouth was on the Japanese man’s, those soft, full lips rolling beneath his own. He tasted salt, beer, what was probably semen, but he didn’t care. Like a thief, his tongue slipped in during that moment of surprise, darting in to steal all that was most precious to astroexplorer. 

He found Shiro’s tongue, coaxing it up, teasing him. He worked the man’s lips, he continued to grind his shaft deeper, hungry for everything the bigger man had to offer. It didn’t matter that to Keith what it might cost; he wanted to _devour_ him, gorge himself on every part of the stunningly handsome, Garrison graduate. 

When they finally parted, it was to the cheers of the crowd. 

“Woo! A couple of lovebirds here!” Ellis teased, spilling beer as he jostled them. “When’s the wedding you two?” 

“Bloody hell mate, you think one of these bastards could kiss me like that?” Liam, asked, hands on his knees, his shaft sticking straight out. 

The brown-haired guy, Griffin or whatever, grabbed the Brit by the head and pulled him in for a long, slow kiss, only to be interrupted by Kinkade rudely hauling both of them into his lap, sizeable erection jutting between them. 

“Oh no, Griffin!” the blonde Brit sighed, “Looks like Kinkade’s come between us again.” He planted his lips on the man’s plump, pouty mouth. Griffin scowled, until Kinkade’s free hand dropped to tug at his dick. 

Hands entwined about Keith’s shoulder’s, his legs spread by the thinner man’s arms, Shiro flashed a grin. “I could marry this guy if he keeps doing that!”

A low growl rumbling in his breast, the Garrison student lunged for the older man’s smart mouth. His ribbed cock ground cruelly into Shiro’s prostate as he did so, but his cry was swallowed by Keith’s mouth covering his. He clung to the the black-haired boy, fingers clawing through his hair, scraping down his back, though not to pull away: to get _more_. 

“Looks like he’s holding you to that, Sven!” one of the guys called, hooting, before taking a swig of beer. Keith broke the kiss, reveling in the way Shiro tried to follow, half of him wishing he could look into the man’s black eyes instead of a blindfold. He gathered himself, slowing drawing back. 

In this position, the glide of his immense length though the older man’s guts was intense. Each stroke was impossibly smooth, eased by the overflow of Keith’s seed - which seemed to work even better than the lube. Each time he plunged into Shiro, speared him with his wrist-thick, jaw-breaking beast of a cock, he felt the man’s balls bounce against his stomach, felt the man clench, felt his pleasure echo through him. 

It was addictive. Keith felt as though he could lose himself all over again. 

Shiro lay underneath the Garrison student, moaning under his breath, loving the power he could feel coiled behind each thrust. What was even better was that the mod-boy had finally started fucking his ass like he owned it, biting at Shiro’s pecs whenever his mouth was free. 

By now Keith was caught in the throes of lust, needing to get off in a way that practically burned from the inside. He started pounding Shiro as hard as he could, causing the bed to rock and sway, slamming the headboard against the wall each time he pumped his hips. 

Shiro took every impact like a seasoned pro, his tight hole swallowing Keith's fist-thick shaft from tip to base better than any throat had before, anal muscles clenching and releasing to milk the shaft, hoping to finally wrangle the horse-hung stranger into submission. Keith couldn't help fucking the muscular man's ass even harder, needing to feel every inch of his dick engulfed by the hot, cum-soaked hole.

With the astropilot flat on his back, his legs hoisted over his shoulders, Keith was able to lean in and deep-dick him, fucking so hard that he started banging his thighs into his ass like a paddle. The constant pistoning was enough to break the last bit of control Shiro had, blazing spikes of pleasure sending him over the edge. 

“I’m cumming!” Shiro’s tongue was thick in his mouth, his body so tense about Keith that he could barely speak. His abdomen clenched, strangling the length buried inside him, and a long rope of cum shot out of his dick. Another, weaker line sprayed out, lingering, attached to his fat shaft as it tried to pump a dry well. 

Keith could feel the man struggle beneath him, but it was impossible to stop now. The black-haired boy dipped forward, panting heavily as he ground into Shiro's ass. He ground his teeth together, the last of his seed shooting forth each time his dick throbbed. Shiro wrapped his powerful arms about Keith's body, clutching him to his breast. The pilot’s hands massaged the back of the younger man's head and neck, a tender touch that Keith didn’t expect. 

He lifted his head, hair matted from sweat, and kissed him on the lips again, sliding his tongue directly into his mouth as he waited for his dick to finish pulsing. That his legs trembled, that his breath only came in the short hitches between each kiss, didn’t matter. If he could just keep this moment going forever...

With a final shudder, Keith stopped. His mouth sought out Shiro’s once more, but the man barely had the energy to kiss back. That didn’t stop Keith from trying though, biting and sucking at his lips. 

His stomach bowed by the mound of Shiro’s sizeable cock, the man’s chest slimey with sweat and cum, more seed leaking down Keith’s balls… he could stay like this forever. He went for Shiro’s mouth again, nipping at his lips, pleading with his tongue until the older man finally responded. 

Grasping the black-haired by by the back of his head, Shiro rallied the strength to kiss him long, hard, deepening the kiss until it felt like they were the only two people in the world. 

Much as he wanted it to last, forcing himself to stretch like that was hard to do for long. Keith pulled back, eyes heavy, licking his lips. 

The fratboys in the room piled forward, mouths gaping wider than Shiro’s ass as the skinny track star slid out of the big Japanese hunk. Thick white seed gushed out before his hole closed again, far more than what should come from one normal man. More leaked out. Keith couldn’t resist smacking the flared head of his dick against it a couple times, even daring to sink himself halfway in again - a mistake, as both he and Shiro winced. He tried to make up for it with another lip-locking kiss, tangling their tongues and claiming all that he could until his last bit of stamina ran out.

He sank backwards, exhausted. His dick ached beautifully, and he was covered in sweat. Keith let his eyes close for a moment, only to get shoved aside by the lippy blonde, stuffing his tongue in Shiro’s cummy hole. The guy started, staring, before he turned, wiping his mouth. “Fuck, kid, what did you eat?”

Keith just blinked at him. “What?”

Frantically scooping another fingerful into his mouth, Ellis scraped a third from the mess held it out for the Brit to try. “It’s fucking – here just taste it!” he insisted. The Brit eyed him for a second, before sucking the whole finger into his mouth. His eyes went wide. 

“Fuck! What is that? It’s like - oh, god, it’s like-,” he exclaimed, snapping his fingers. He dipped his own fingers in for another taste, both men on a mission now, their erections forgotten. Tall, skinny Ellis snapped his fingers first, turning to his friend. “Like one of those fucking chocolate eggs right? With the cream in the middle?” Liam’s face creased as he rolled it over his tongue, before lighting up in recognition. “Holy shit! You’re right!”

“Fuck!” Shiro shouted, gritting his teeth when the two guys both tried to stick their faces in his ass. He planted both hands on their dishwater-blonde heads and forced them to just used their tongues on the outside mess. 

Keith limped from the bed, legs wobbly, casting about for wherever he’d thrown his shirt. 

“Okay – fuck – guys, I-,” Shiro gasped, dropping his legs, beyond caring that the two eating him out were still there. Breathless, he half-shook his head in disbelief. “I think I’m done!”

“Aw, Sven, mate, already?” the British guy whined from his kneeling position in front of the bed. “I didn’t even get to suck you off!” 

“Suck this off,” Ellis ordered, slicking a generous dollop of Keith’s cum across his long, skinny dick. The Brit’s eyes lit up, and he went for it immediately. Ellis’ eyes rolled back, the fratguy sighing as his cock was swallowed to the root. The British guy hummed merrily, wiggling his pale butt in anticipation. 

Behind them, Shiro made to pull off his blindfold.

Shirt on, pants a work in progress, Keith hopped down the hall, unintentionally giving a stoned, hippie-looking girl a good eyeful of his dick. “Dude,” she said, as he stuffed himself in, “Nice!”

Flushing, Keith muttered his thanks and stumbled down some stairs that he hoped were the same as the ones he’d used earlier. Not quite, he discovered, but it was easy enough to cut through the bevy of drunk college kids that still loitered in every room. 

It wasn’t until he reached his bike, right at the end of the driveway, how could he be so _stupid_ as to park it here - that his brain had a chance to process what had just happened.

 _I just_ fucked _Shiro_. That thought, singular and overwhelming, nearly drove him to his knees.

Shiro, smiling, as his mouth closed over the head of his dick. 

Shiro, on his knees before him, that _beautiful_ back arching as he buried himself to the hilt. 

Shiro, arms and legs wrapped about him, his whole body just a glove for Keith to slide into...

His dick, for all the abuse he’d just put it through, stiffened mightily against its denim prison, so much so that he genuinely feared his zipper might burst if he didn’t fix it immediately. Snaking a hand under his waistband only seemed to make it worse, however, as his touch just made him keenly aware of the sweat, the semen that had glued his scrotum to his shaft. 

Bracing himself against the hoverbike, Keith straightened his dick so it ran along his waist. The urge to give it a few tugs reared its head. _Later_ , he promised, checking about for party stragglers. Fortunately there were few, out-of-sight as he was in the yard. He set about pulling his helmet from the rear compartment, taking care to not excite himself any further. 

“Keith, where you going?” one of the guys called from behind. 

Mind whirling, the lithe biker turned to see the blue-eyed guy with cool hair had followed him out, clothes haphazardly thrown on. He tried to speak, but fumbled the words, gesturing vaguely over his shoulder. “I gotta – I gotta get back…”

The guy’s - Griffon’s - face fell. He strode forward, deep into Keith’s personal space. “Aw. Man, Keith, I was going next,” he purred, voice throaty. One hand cupped the obscene bulge between Keith’s legs. “Is there any chance you stay, maybe use that monster on me?” 

Keith gaped at him. “I - uh... “ he began to demur, but Griffon was having none of it. 

“Mother of pearl, you straight-up ruined Sven in there, but you’re still hard as a rock?” His long fingers somehow had popped the button at his waistband open, Keith’s erection practically freeing itself. Griffon’s hand wrapped about it, a strong, firm grip that made the lithe track star grunt. The pretty fratboy seemed entranced at the feel of Keith’s foreskin sliding across the ridges below his glans, at the sheer size of the thing. His breath came sharp. “Let me get the edge off, at least.”

Before he could protest, the guy was on his knees and had half of Keith’s monstrous length in his mouth. 

The Garrison student started, hands immediately going to Griffon’s thin shoulders, but the surge of blood through his dick made him slow - and stop entirely at the swirl of the man’s tongue around his glans. Bit by bit, Griffon used his mouth, his hands, to massage the last bit of resistance from Keith, until the freshman’s violet eyes were clouded with lust. 

It didn’t take long. Even as he grasped the guy’s head, all he could think about was how warm, how tight, how _full_ he’d felt with Shiro around him. When Shiro’d taken him in his mouth, the man’s lips, his throat stretched wide to accommodate him. 

Sheltered by the bulk of his hoverbike, hidden further by the dark shadows of the night, Griffon didn’t seem to care about the sucking, gagging noises he made as he choked himself on the Garrison student’s meaty cock. At first, Keith was a little hesitant, glancing about to make sure, but no one was out by them, and certainly no one was going to hear them over the noise of the party coming from the house. Then Griffon pressed himself into Keith’s thighs, in the same, needy way that Shiro had earlier. 

Keith lost it. 

He pounded his hips into the guy’s face, pulling back to nearly his full length before snapping forward. Fortunately, the preppy-looking guy seemed to know what he was doing, if even he still struggled with his gag reflex whenever Keith pushed himself halfway down his throat. 

All he could think about was the practiced ease with which Shiro had taken him earlier, the way his tongue had felt like silk on the underside of his cock when he swallowed him. Keith’s fingers curled in the fratboy’s chestnut-brown hair, his thumbs sweeping the bangs out of the way, even as his mind envisioned a very different face staring up at him.

The pretty boy's hands clutched at Keith’s ass, gathering sweaty bunches of denim before finally slipping under the waistband to grip his cheeks. Surprised, Keith jammed his hips in hard, his entire body wracked by tremors. The move seemed to get a powerful reaction from the preppy fratboy, as Keith felt a hum _vibrate_ through his dick. Even with his nose buried in black pubes, Griffon refused to let up. In fact, he just hummed again. 

The feel of those vibrations, sending twinges of pleasure up his spine, was enough to finally set Keith over the edge. His balls tensed up, his stomach clenching as his body was pushed to climax for the fourth time that night. 

Griffon sucked in huge gasps of air through his nose as the lithe track star shuddered and yanked on his hair, the fratboy seemingly used to rough treatment; barely even wincing. Keith, gasping as he continued to shoot what felt like a huge load of sperm directly down the kid's throat, had enough presence of mind to register that the brunette probably needed air. He groaned and slid his hips back, but Griffon kept his lips clamped tight until just the soaked, slick head of Keith’s cock rested in his mouth. 

His bravado proved to be his undoing. One last, shaking spurt was enough to make him cough, seed gushing from the corners of his mouth. He suppressed another cough, swallowing quickly, but that only broke the seal of his lips about Keith’s dick. 

“Oh, fuck,” the guy moaned, cum pouring down his chin. He tried to catch it, but more just kept spilling out - pooling in his hands, spilling across his chest, his pants - whenever he tried to swallow. Keith fell backwards against his bike, the cool night air making his cock spasm, watching the guy - Griffon or whatever - with a touch of concern. 

Then it registered that he’d called him by his name. Twice.

“Do I know you?” Keith asked, struggling to place him. 

The guy glanced up at him, hurriedly swiping his hand across his lips. “We - we went to high school together.” His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, then tried to swallow again. Keith just looked at him blankly. “James Griffin? We were in track together?” the man - James - added, losing his cocky smirk.

Again, Keith could only shake his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.” 

“You punched me when I - look, it doesn’t matter. I’d rather you not remember what I was like then anyway.” He made sure his face was clean, absentmindedly fixing his hair in the process. That natural arrogance returned, though it was belied the lust in his eyes. “Hey, if it doesn’t work out with Sven, give me a call okay?”

“You’re not with that Kinkade guy?” 

“Ryan?” The brunette scoffed. “No, he doesn’t have the time of day for anyone.” 

Not what Keith had noticed, with the way the near-modelesque Black guy had been all over James once he’d been pulled off Shiro. His gaze flicked from Griffin’s pretty blue eyes to the hickies on his neck, but he said nothing. 

“What?” Griffon demanded, but was distracted by his phone, a vid-message close-up of Kinkade and the British guy stroking their cocks together. “James, where you at, bro?” a very inebriated Kinkade could be heard yelling, before the clip ended. The pretty brunette flushed, closing the message. “I gotta go. Cya ‘round.”

With one last, hungry look at Keith’s crotch, he was off. 

Dazed, the track star rested against his bike a while longer, the night air helping cool him off a little. Eventually, he stirred, mindful of both that his dick was still out and that he couldn’t stay for long. He sucked in a deep breath, wincing as he tucked himself away, and hopped on his bike; taking off, back towards the Garrison. 

This - this wasn’t how things were supposed to go. 

_That first time, when he’d first seen Shiro surrounded by nude men, he’d stayed out in the hall, ducking his head whenever someone passed by. Sometimes it was a guy bringing the others more beer. Sometimes it was a guy, pants unbuckled, face flushed, struggling to swallow, hobbling out. Keith got practiced at feigning a drunken stupor, pretending at swaying out of sight, at hiding in the shadow of a doorframe in the hall._

_He had no idea how much time had gone by with him doing nothing but stare, carving the scene into his mind with brutal force._

_Nothing could distract him, not even the solicitations another, mostly naked, mostly attractive man, who kept trying to catch his eye. Not even when he groped him, going straight for the sizeable bulge in the Garrison student’s jeans._

_He’d been close to giving in to the guy’s squeeze, ready to force the guy against the door and rut into him, his gaze still trained on that magic angle that let him spy on the room down the hall, when Shiro suddenly stood up from the bed. “Gotta pee,” he announced, when the guy who’d been rimming him protested._

Even in doing that, Shiro’d been gorgeous. Powerful body on full display, dangerously-sized erection leading the way, radiating confidence. Strength. A natural leader with the charisma to back it up. He could still picture that moment, the graduate student framed by naked fratboys to either side, a force to be reckoned with, regardless of his current state.

_Keith fled immediately, dashing down the hall, disappearing down the stairs, with a grace and speed he didn’t know he had. If he’d parked any closer, he might have actually dove straight out a window for his bike, with the way adrenaline blanked out all other thoughts until he was halfway home._

_Halfway back to campus, having sailed right out there, away from Liberty Springs; even then, the only thing in his head was realizing that the rumbling of his hoverbike had made him nearly spurt through his jeans. He gritted his teeth and floored it back to his dorm, where he’d shucked his sweat-soaked clothes in the hamper and jumped in the shower, eyes closed, fisting himself, and cumming over and over until he was chafed and raw; each time imagining it was himself in Shiro’s mouth, in Shiro’s ass, balls cupped in Shiro’s hands, throat choked and breath cut off from Shiro’s thick, ten-inch dick._

_The only reason he’d stopped was because of sheer exhaustion; head spinning, vision blurred, he’d stumbled, naked, back to his room and collapsed face-down on the bed…_

He had no dreams that night. Usually his thoughts were a jumbled, incoherent mess, and each day was little more than a shot in the dark at hoping things would be better tomorrow. If stress didn’t keep him up, something else would make him startle awake, ready to face something vile in the dark. Yet, blissed out as he was, there was nothing. 

_Of course, things were never that easy. Not for him. He collapsed in bed, naked, only to be woken by Shiro, fresh-faced, smiling, having let himself in. First thing he did was order him to get his lazy ass up and go running with him._

_For a long, surreal moment, Keith had been left wondering if he’d imagined the whole thing, hurriedly covering himself - not that it mattered, since Shiro hadn’t even glanced downwards the whole time - before hobbling after the guy, who was waiting at the bottom of the stairwell with the plucky impatience gifted only to the worst of the morning people._

_“What’s the matter, Keith?” he teased, noticing the younger man wince. “Don’t tell me someone actually got you to go out and get hungover!”_

_A little hoarse, still spinning, Keith answered straightforwardly. “I went to a party last night.”_

_“No way!” Shiro exclaimed, full of exaggerated awe. The dagger-look he got had him holding his hands up with a chuckle. “Kidding! Just kidding! Where at? Belmont street?”_

_Belmont street was where most Garrison parties happened. Keith shook his head, trying to keep up with the bigger man as they ran. “No, some frathouse in Liberty Springs.”_

_His skin prickled almost immediately after he said it._

_“What were you doing way out there?” Shiro asked, his tone deceptively light._

_Normally, Shiro would have looked at him. Made eye-contact. _Teased_ him. In the span of that one, too-long second that had passed before he responded, Keith knew he was in trouble. _

_“I was out in the badlands and my bike got low. Went into town to charge it up, saw someone I knew,” he mumbled. “I only had a couple drinks and left.”_

_His eyes stayed on Shiro’s back, willing the man’s shoulder to go back down. “Not your scene, huh?” his friend remarked, relaxing after what seemed like eternity._

_“No.” Keith, being who he was, couldn’t resist the urge to push the limits. “You seem like you had fun, though.” In his head, he was screaming._

_“Do I?” the huge Japanese guy asked, turning just enough for his dark eyes to glint at Keith. “I guess I did.”_

_They didn’t talk much the rest of the run, but at least Shiro didn’t have that hard edge Keith had glimpsed there, in that moment. At the end of the run, his friend just waved at him, with a “Later man,” and was off._

_Life went on, as if that night had never happened. Morning was aerophysics, materials science, afternoon was labs and physical training. Lunch was with Shiro on odd days, with whoever, Lance or Hunk - guys from class - on evens._

_That weekend, he and Shiro powered through a six-pack Moons of Jupiter marathon, Shiro’s obsession. If he was honest, the show had become his own obsession too. Life went on, with just one more secret to keep… and Keith was good at keeping secrets. He almost could have pretended that it been a fluke of the universe, a stroke of luck, and nothing more. ._

_Except that Shiro went back there. And Keith, idiot that he was, desperate as he was,_ eager _as he was, just kept following right after him._

Alone on the freeway, with only the stars, the wind, and the road before him, Keith could see why Shiro did it. It was like going to another world, a place where nothing mattered and it was just a night of sex and fun. 

And on the way home, speed let everything else blow away. Well, everything except the fire in his gut, which kept getting fanned by the hoverbike’s vibrations. 

“Shiro,” he breathed, his grip tightening on the handlebars. Was this why he did it? Got to pretend like nothing mattered, if even for just one night?

The thought actually gave him a sense of peace, acceptance, he hadn’t expected. He pulled up to the dorm, rock-hard, ready for more. It was late enough that he didn’t have to worry about any RAs around, since he was coming in at two in the morning, reeking of booze and sweat and cum. He didn’t even stop by his room, just went straight for a shower stall and stripped off, hands fumbling as his erection sprang free. 

The moment he had the curtain drawn, the water hot enough to scald, he took his fat, full twelve inches in hand and fisted himself in the shower yet again. He had to. Even after four times this evening, he still couldn’t get the smell of Shiro out of his head. The _taste_ of him. The feel of that big, warm body, muscled arms, wrapped all about him, the feel of that body clenching on his cock - a moan escaped his mouth, and he didn’t care if anyone heard it. He clawed at the shower well, his nails scratching the tile, his eyes sightless, chest heaving as he snarled out one more climax for the night. 

His head spun. The water was too hot, his legs too weak to support him. The black-haired freshman scrunched his eyes shut, whimpering when he shifted and the shower hit his long, flagging erection. 

By the stars, his dick hurt. Not even sinking his fangs into his bicep could distract from it. 

“Please,” he whispered, “Please just go soft.” 

Even that was a struggle, a mental battle against the desire in his veins, a physical one against the blood still trying to pump itself into his cock. 

Eventually he won out, long enough to slip into his briefs, one shaky leg at a time, and hobbled down the hall, clothes bundled under one arm. The guys who lived next door to him happened to be talking outside their doorway - a pair he recognized from his pilot classes too. Big guy and Mouth. Their names would come to him in a second. 

“Woo, Keith,” Lance called, as Keith passed the door where he was chatting with Hunk. “What’re you doing there? Smuggling plums?” 

Tired as he was, Keith was still willing to throw out a nut-tap when it was needed. 

“Dude!” Lance whined, cringing. Hunk laughed. “Easy with the goods! Not all of us are packing grapefruit!” 

Keith just shut his door, dropped his clothes to floor and peeled off his briefs. His cock made a valiant effort to rise, but he ignored it, collapsing straight into bed. His head whirled, for a second, before he was out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. I headcanon that galra are fuck-machines. That’s why there are so many galra hybrids.


	4. The things unsaid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> would any of you believe me if I said that I'd originally just meant this to be a 6k one-shot?

Shiro was in the middle of chugging his way through an miserably bad protein shake when he heard his door unlock and footsteps pad in. “Keith!” he exclaimed feeling a pair of arms encircle him. He pulled the drink away when the smaller man tightened his grip and heaved, managing just barely to swing him around. Shiro laughed, loudly, turning to ruffle the freshman’s hair once he was set back on his feet. “You’re in a mood.” He followed him as he raced to the bed, where Keith made himself right at home. “Did you have a good weekend then?” 

An actual smile crossed Keith’s face. “Great.” 

“Happy to not be doing drills, huh?” he asked, finishing the rest of the glass. Keith made a noncommittal noise. Shiro made the same noise back - then his expression turned sly. “And that the cafeteria had deep-fried ravioli last night?”

Nailed in one. Keith flushed. “Not all of us can live on protein shakes!” he defended. 

Chuckling, Shiro prodded the track prodigy’s flat stomach before heading back to the kitchenette. “Not all of us can eat four thousand calories and not suffer for it either!”

“Just more of you to love, that’s all!” Keith countered, getting a laugh. Shiro leaned out of the alcove, flexing.

“As if there isn’t enough of me already?” He moved to the sink and cleaned the mess, a little disappointed when Keith didn’t banter further, though not surprised. When he joined Keith by the low bed, he settled down on the floor. 

Keith reached a hand out to rub the short buzz-cut on the back of Shiro’s head. “What about you?” 

“What about me?” he asked, confused. 

“Didn’t you go to a party?”

“Oh… yeah.” Shiro shrugged, voice cool. “I did. It was good.”

Eyes sliding to the back of Shiro’s head, Keith felt a reckless urge rise within him. “Meet anyone?”

Shrio was silent a moment, just long enough that only those used to him could notice. “Yeah, one guy.” He didn’t elaborate. 

“Someone you liked?” Keith asked, after a long hesitation. He knew he shouldn’t, that he was really asking for trouble, but that driving force inside him was relentless. 

Silent, Shiro took time to respond. “Yeah. Something was there, for sure.” The graduate student’s big, dark eyes seemed to glint. “Didn’t get his number though. Ah well.” He tilted his head backwards, looking at the black-haired boy in his bed from upside-down. “What about you, Keith? Did _you_ meet anyone?”

“I, uh…” The freshman wavered, trying to fight what wanted to spill out of him. He felt hot. “I kissed the guy I like.”

The moment it slipped from his mouth he regretted it. His neck burned, and the widening of Shiro’s eyes - made that much worse by the man’s complete silence - was probably the most he’d ever wanted to die in his entire life. 

“Oh?” Shiro nearly broke from the strain of keeping his voice neutral. While the majority of him wanted to holler, shout, clap Keith on the back, he settled instead for turning around and climbing on the bed beside his friend. “How was it?” he finally asked, wincing at the note of mirth that still crept in there. 

Keith couldn’t meet his eyes. Not like this. The cherry-red flush creeped from his neck to his cheeks.

The sight of him struggling was enough to make Shiro take pity on him. He ruffled the freshman’s hair. “That good huh?” he noted, remembering his own first kiss. Then, because he couldn’t resist, he wrapped him in his arms and rolled atop the smaller man, forcing the breath from his lungs. “Was it because of all the tips I’ve given you?” He lowered his voice, conspiratorial. “Did you tell him he looks good?”

“You never -,” Keith’s voice, faint, failed him. He tried again. “You never gave me tips on kissing.” 

Huffing, laughing, Shiro released him. “If I did, don’t take them!” he warned, switching to his side. He had more than enough ego strength to admit this flaw, at least. “I’m a terrible kisser.”

“No you’re not!” The protest slipped from Keith’s mouth before he’d even realized the thought itself, his blood freezing in his veins when he processed what he’d just said.

“I’m not?” Surprised, Shiro’s mouth curled into a quizzical moue. “What makes you say that?”

“Well,” Keith paused, scrambling. “You - you had Adam, didn’t you?”

Turning contemplative, Shiro lay back beside him. “You know, I’m realizing now that neither of us were big on affection.” His brow furrowed; it was hard to think of the times that - other than sex - the two of them had even hugged. “I think I get more touch from you than I did from him. Weird, right?” he teased, squeezing Keith’s narrow frame to his side with just the one arm. His train of thought kept chugging, however, pulling him right along with it. “It’s like... there was something in both of us that just didn’t click.” His brow creased even further; there was something there, some hint of what was missing. Why they’d failed, why _he’d_ failed… there, fluttering about the edges of awareness, frustrating and elusive. 

He realized Keith was watching him, those big, near-violet eyes soaking in every detail and giving nothing back. Shiro blinked. “But I don’t want to talk about Adam. I want to hear more about this guy you like!” 

The younger man’s inscrutable expression cleared immediately, the speed of the consternation that swept his face making Shiro laugh. Huffing, Keith rolled over, hiding his head in the pillows.

“Keith, you’ve never so much as glanced twice at _anyone_ the entire time I’ve known you! You don’t think you’re gonna get away with your ‘grr, stoic silence’ _now,_ do you?” Shiro exclaimed, complete with a mimicked growl. He tried to flip a very resistant Keith back over. “Come on, at least tell me that he kissed you back!”

Blushing too hard to talk, Keith just jerked his chin in a nod. Shiro let out the whoop that had been building the whole time. “Attaboy, Keith! Was it good?” 

Remembering the softness of Shiro’s mouth, the fullness of his tongue once he’d sought it out, the warmth that finally quelled that fire that burned within him, Keith felt his heart tremble. “Breathtaking,” he murmured, not a trace of sarcasm in his voice. 

“Woah - Keith.” Taken aback, the big Japanese guy fought to process the information he’d just been given. He placed his hand on Keith’s shoulder. “You really like this guy, don’t you?”

Any other time, any other day, the black-haired boy would have dodged the question. Would have just shut his mouth with a stubbornness that could outlast even Shiro's, but at this moment, all he could think about was how could it felt to be honest. “I love him.”

Eyebrows shooting up, Shiro shifted, immediately going from fellow conspirator to protective. Hearing Keith even… even _say_ something like that, in that tone of voice, was deeply unsettling, on a level he couldn’t explain. Still, however much he didn’t like it, the greater part of him knew this as a moment of Keith opening up, and he was not about to dishonor that.

“So... “ he began, searching awkwardly for words. “Are you two... dating now?”

It was lame. Probably the lamest thing he could have asked, and he felt even worse when he watched Keith’s expression fall. 

“Oh – oh no. Oh, Keith.” As if a day went by where he didn’t put his foot in his mouth, Shiro thought to himself. He bundled Keith close. Keith let him. “I’m sorry.” This, at least, was something he knew how to do. “This guy – is he a real idiot?”

The irony of him being the one to ask that question was rich enough to knock Keith out of his funk. He snorted. “Sometimes.” His sharp teeth flashed for a second as he bit his lip in thought, about to give words to something he’d known for a long time. “I think he just doesn’t… just doesn’t see me the way I see him.”

Shiro’s heart ached for the younger guy. He couldn’t imagine a man more deserving of someone who truly loved him. “Well, have you told him how you feel?” he asked, casting about for something to work with. 

The lack of response spoke volumes. 

He couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped him, but he could keep it small, kind. “I’m guessing that’s a no.” 

Caught, Keith couldn’t help laughing too. He sighed. “What if he doesn’t… like me, that way, back?”

“Then he _is_ a real idiot.”

“Would you say yes?” Keith demanded, pushing up to meet Shiro’s gaze. “Would you feel the same?” His eyes sparked with challenge, daring him to say no. 

“Keith, I can only wish a guy half so great as you would date me.” He said it with conviction, not about to back down. “But yes, because you’re smart, you’re capable, and you’re a leader. Look, this guy, if he doesn’t see you as a catch, then he’s just not worth it and it wasn’t meant to be.”

“What if he…”

He didn’t finish, but he didn’t have to. Shiro knew the thought so well he could finish it for him. “What if he acts different?” There was no good answer. There might never be. “It happens, Keith. First guy I liked acted weird after I asked him out too. Good thing, actually, he was a real loser.”

Keith’s eyebrows creased, sharply quizzical. “Then why’d you like him?”

“Oh… I dunno.” He scrunched his nose in thought. “I think it was mostly physical. I was only seventeen at the time. He was cool. Jacked.” He puffed his chest in demonstration. 

“The opposite of Adam?” the younger man asked, trying to reconcile this new information.

“Total opposite.” Then Shiro paused, a curious series of expressions crossing his face. “Huh.”

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” He hesitated, though, because that wasn’t true. His mouth worked. “Just… maybe realized something. Maybe that I was forcing myself in the opposite direction.” _Maybe I was clinging to the one time that felt like success_ , he added, to himself. A discomforting line of thought. One that he wasn’t sure he liked thinking about. He glanced down to see that big pair of violet eyes, studying him once again. Shiro flushed, and decided to change the subject. “But tell me more about this guy! You’ve never even said anything before!”

Keith looked away. “Hm.”

“Come on, Keith! You can’t go all sphinx-like on me after dropping a bomb like that! I didn’t even think you cared about – about any of that, boy or girl, until ten minutes ago!” Shiro begged, shaking him. Keith let himself be moved, his face finally cracking. 

“What do I say?”

“Well, for starters - does he have a name?” Shiro asked, interrupting himself. 

The small freshman ducked his head, blush returning. “If I said it, you’d know who he is.”

“Wait, he goes here?” Feeling stupid, because where else would Keith have met someone, Shiro _tsked_ and shook his head. “I’m gonna have to start paying more attention to who you hang out with. Is he bigger than me?”

Keith, head resting against one of the pecs barely contained by Shiro’s little white tanktop, his free hand resting on the other, smirked, wryly. “About the same size.”

“Good, then it won’t be too hard to beat him up if he gives you any grief.”

Though he said it good-naturedly, Keith didn’t smile. Locking his arms about the big Asian guy’s chest, he just stared off into space. He could what Shiro thought of it already. That it was just a crush, that the younger man was destined for heartbreak. That it was just young love, and he’d be back to his old, surly, taciturn self soon enough. 

That bothered him, more than anything else, because it wasn’t _young love_. It’d been three years since the day he’d met him, and there hadn’t been a moment in Shiro’s presence that his heart didn’t feel like it would burst.

Shiro flinched, his right hand pushing at Keith’s arm. “Woah, easy there Keith,” he warned, the black-haired boy realizing just how much he’d tightened his grip. He let go, as Shiro, wincing, shifted position. “Man, I always forget how crazy strong you are.” When he looked back at Keith, however, his friend had an empty, forlorn expression. Shiro sighed. “Look, buddy, I know you.” He put a hand on his narrow shoulder. “You’re a great guy.” And then, because he couldn’t resist, he used his left hand - since Keith was still laying on his arm - to ruffle his thick hair. “You just gotta let him know how you actually feel!” he growled, playfully. 

“I’ll think about it.”

Shiro frowned. “Tell him,” he insisted, squeezing the breath out of the smaller man for emphasis. 

Keith just scowled right back. “I said I’ll think about it.” 

Placated, at least partially, the big Japanese guy relaxed his arm. Until Keith tried to pull away, whereupon he rolled over and dropped his weight on him. “Shiro, I gotta go!” Keith pleaded, huffing. 

Hearing the smile in his voice, Shiro was willing to let him go. This time. “Practice?” he asked, releasing him. Keith scrambled free, straightening himself.

“Yeah. You wanna come with?” 

He shook his head. “I already worked out today.” Still feeling lame, he added, “Besides, I don’t have any fresh running shorts left.”

“Not even the ‘Big Tasty’ ones the team got you?” Keith chirped, bright and innocent. He got a pillow to the face as a response, and beat a hasty retreat before more followed. 

“Bye!” the upperclassman called, listening to the door slam. He flopped backwards, finally given a moment to digest the enormity of what Keith’d said. The svelte little track star _liked_ someone - well, not just liked. Was in love. The revelation made him feel a little sad; here he’d thought Keith could trust him with anything, and yet the guy had held back on this for… well who could say how long. Of course, Shiro understood why he might not have been up-front about it in the first place, once he thought about it. Seeing how quickly things had fallen apart with Adam - maybe hadn’t worked right for a long time, even - probably didn’t give Keith the greatest confidence in his romantic understanding. Hell, Shiro was starting to realize that _he_ might not know anything at all about romance, for all that he’d been nearly engaged.

Still, Keith had a sense about things that Shiro had really come to appreciate, these last two years. If anyone could do it, do things right...

“I’m rootin’ for you, Keith,” he murmured. 

His hand twitched, as if still gribbed in the memory of Keith’s head on his breast. He idly stretched, curled his fingers, the intimacy of the moment striking him suddenly - for whatever reason he could not say. Maybe it was just the lingering soreness whenever he flexed his stomach, a gift from the little freshman’s freakishly-strong grip. Shiro had yet to figure out how it felt like Keith could nearly crack his ribs with a hug, but then there was a lot he still had to figure out about Keith.

Of course, it didn’t help any that the gene-mod guy that’d fucked him on Friday, with his power-thrusts and insatiable appetite, had squeezed him just as hard about sixteen times and the former track star had yet to recover from that, too. Damn it had felt good, though; to feel that sort of power wrapped about him, feel it thrust into him, feel it come undone inside his body. Even if it had ruined him for the rest of the night. 

Shiro stuck his right arm under the back of his head, wrapped in thought. It was a real shame the guy hadn’t stuck around for anything afterwards. He’d sounded hot. And the way he kissed… it was like the first time he’d kissed Adam, only without the accidental teeth, and a ton more deft skill. By the stars, if that was what Keith was talking about when he’d described his kiss, then Shiro could actually believe in using the word ‘breathtaking’.

The thought of Keith kissing someone, however… his mouth twisted. He tried to distract himself by thinking more about that realization he’d touched on earlier, but try as he could to shake the thought from his head, his mind kept bouncing back to it. 

Kissing Keith - he could just imagine this other guy having to duck his head to reach the shorter man’s lips, imagine Keith’s slight frame being pressed to his breast, one hand cupped on the back of Keith’s head...

Unbidden, the feel of the mystery gene-mod guy’s hair, soft and thick, sprang to mind. His left hand twitched, tingling: caught between the memories from Friday and from when he’d just stroked Keith’s hair today. He closed his eyes, focusing on the texture, on the way it felt beneath his fingertips, feeling sort of bad that he was using Keith to picture the guy, but their hair had the same length. They had the same height. In fact, when he’d felt Keith press against him, wrap his arms about him, it was almost like –

Shiro’s eyes snapped open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time writing for a not-dead fandom. Let me know if you’d like more Sheith stuff from me, or another chapter of this or something

**Author's Note:**

> let me know if you guys spot typos or missing sentences or anything 'cause I am awful at this writing thing


End file.
